


The Reformed Scoundrel

by headoverhook



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 61,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headoverhook/pseuds/headoverhook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma's dire situation calls for desperate measures, proposing marriage to a duke seems to be the only way to protect her son, and there is just one nobleman who might consider such an outrageous offer - Killian Jones, the Duke of Hillsborough, the most notorious rake the ton has ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **This is going to be my first attempt at writing a story that will hopefully reach the length of a novel at the end (about 75.000 to 100.000 words), with longer chapters than I usually write. It's also the first time I'm actually mapping out most of the story beforehand, doing actual research, and putting a lot more thought into how I want to tell it.**  
> 
> **Let's see if I can achieve that goal. :-)**
> 
> **Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, just this story.**
> 
> * * *
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING:** _In this story_ _Neal has forced himself on Emma in the past (rape / non-con). It will be mentioned a few times throughout this story - detailed in the prologue (I put the scene between breaks ( **.::.** ) so you can skip it), and hinted at in future chapters._
> 
> * * *

_London 1848_

Emma was looking back over her shoulder nervously, hoping no one had seen her walking up to his doorstep in the middle of the night. She would be ruined if it would get out. But she needed him to agree to her proposition for Henry's sake. She needed him to marry her, so that her son would not grow up in the shadows of the ton.

Neal would ruin everything if he would actually carry out his threat - saying that Henry wasn't the new Earl of Manton. That he wasn't the son of Richard Gold. Of course it was the truth. He was Neal's son. But nobody knew that. They'd been able to hide it even from the servants; Neal slipping into her boudoir every night after the whole mansion was asleep until she'd conceived. She'd prayed for it to be a boy, prayed she didn't have to go through the agony of giving her body over to Neal ever again.

But Richard was gone now, and Neal had threatened to expose her. To tell everyone that she had betrayed her husband, and had had a clandestine affair with someone else. He'd told her he would ruin their lives if she didn't spread her legs for him again. He'd come to her as soon as his father was underground, his eyes glittering manically as he slapped her, his breath reeking of tobacco and alcohol as he pushed her down on the mattress, and tore her nightshirt apart.

**.::.**

Emma hadn't screamed; she didn't want to wake up Henry, didn't want him to see what Neal was doing to her, even as the pain had almost ripped her apart. Neal hadn't used oil like he had before to help him ease his way into her body, he'd just forced her legs apart and thrust in without preparing her, her dry flesh resisting the intrusion, tears streaming down her face as he'd kept pounding into her until he'd spilled his release into her womb. He'd rolled off her afterwards, towering over her, his face scrunched into a disgusted expression when he'd leaned forward and spit her in the face.

"You're nothing more than a common whore, Emma. And you will obey me. I will be your master from now on, and I will fuck you every night until I've tired of you, or made your belly swell with my child again. And there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing. From now on you're mine. Mine."

He'd rushed out of her bedroom then, slamming the door shut behind him, the sound echoing loud through the silent room. She'd lain on the bed, staring at the canopy above her, feeling his seed leak out of her, praying to the Lord and all the saints who might listen to a desperate mother, that it wouldn't settle in her belly.

She'd forced herself to stand up a few minutes later, her whole body trembling as she'd stared down at the pool of blood mixed with his semen on the sheets. Her movements had been sharp and jerky as she'd pulled the sheet from the bed, not wanting to let the servants see what had happened in here, and as she'd scrubbed the blood and seed out of the sheet, she'd come to a decision.

**.::.**

Neal might have scarred her body and soul beyond repair, but she would not let him ruin Henry's life, too. Her life didn't matter. Her happiness wasn't important. She could only think of her son, and no one else. She would save him from this mad man. Once and for all. As far as she was concerned, Richard was Henry's father. Not Neal. And she'd make sure that he never found out who his real father was.

But they required protection. She needed to find a way to protect her son. So she'd gone to her friend Ruby, and asked for her help.

Ruby had been the one who suggested the Duke of Hillsborough. Emma didn't know him personally, had only seen him from afar. She knew he was a rake. A scoundrel. Being able to ruin reputations by only looking at a woman the wrong way. Everyone knew he didn't want to marry. Everyone knew he had a mistress who fulfilled all his wishes. A mistress who lived in considerable wealth because he paid for everything. But there had been rumors - the duke was the last of his line. His father dead, no living siblings, and an uncle who were more than willing to inherit the dukedom. He needed heirs, and he needed them as soon as possible.

Those rumors were the reason she was standing at his door right now, and before she could change her mind she lifted her hand and closed her fingers around the door knocker, pulling it away from the door, and letting it drop back. The sound seemed to echo through the silence surrounding her, and her eyes flickered back, up and down the street, hoping no on would spot her standing on the steps of the duke's home in the middle of the night.

Emma almost didn't hear the door open behind her, her heart was hammering so hard in her chest that the blood rushing in her ears almost drowned out any other sound, but a creak pierced through the buzzing, and she swirled around, her mouth almost dropping open as her eyes fell on the person standing in the doorway. She had expected a butler, or another servant. But not him.

Since when did a duke open the door himself? Even if it was the middle of the night?

"What the bloody hell do you want?"

She flinched slightly at his harsh tone, her eyes flicking up and down his body, her heart stuttering in her chest as she took in his rumpled state. His cravat was hanging loosely around his neck, his waistcoat was unbuttoned, his shirt only half tucked into his breeches.

He looked dazzlingly handsome, and extremely dangerous; his eyes a startling blue, his hair falling into his forehead, making her fingers itch to smooth it back, a day-old scruff darkening his cheeks. But there was also a coldness in his eyes, a hard edge to the line of his jaw, an almost palpable tension in his posture. He looked like one of these exotic creatures from India she'd once seen in a book. Beautiful and deadly at the same time.

The clearing of his throat startled her, and her eyes snapped back up to his. She should say something, should explain why she was here, but she couldn't get words past the lump in her throat, could just stare at him. Coming to his house was a desperate attempt, a last resort. She had nothing to offer him despite her body. But he was her only chance, and her beauty had to be enough. It just had to.

Taking in a deep breath, Emma balled her hands into fists beside her body, gathering all the courage she possessed. This was for Henry. She would do anything for him. Anything. Even sell her body and soul.

"I'm here to make you an offer, Your Grace."

One of his eyebrows shot up, his mouth curling up into a lascivious grin as he looked her up and down, the expression on his face indicating he liked what he was seeing. It would be so much easier if she could just offer her body to him, but it wouldn't be enough. She needed more than his money to stop Neal from carrying out his threats. To protect her son Emma also needed the protection his title would provide.

"I want you to marry me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I received a few questions, and almost all of them will be answered in the story. But someone asked me about the social hierarchy, and I won't explain it really in the story, so the ranks and their respective orders are … Royalty (King / Queen / Prince / Princess) – Nobility (Duke / Marquis / Earl / Viscount / Baron) – Commoners (Baronet / Knight / Landed gentry) – Other Gentlemen (Affluent Businessman / Navy and Army Officers / Clergymen).**

Killian was contemplating to wring Barnes' neck if he didn't stop fussing around. He'd woken up with a headache, and the cigar smoke he'd been surrounded by for the last hours didn't help at all. His head was pounding, and his hand had started to cramp again, and he just wanted to be left in peace.

"Barnes?" he barked, shooting his butler a stern look. "Would you please leave me be?"

"But Your Grace, Mr. Higgings is already gone to bed. There is no one upstairs to help you with your clothes."

Of course his valet was already in bed, he'd been the one who told him not to wait up for him, had actually ordered him to go to bed when Higgings refused to listen to him. It was only due to his butler's stubbornness that he wasn't also sleeping already, because Barnes refused to let a footman stay awake to let His Grace in when he came home late at night.

"I'm not a decrepit old bloke. I can get out of my clothes on my own," Killian snapped, holding up a hand when his butler opened his mouth to argue. "And don't tell me it isn't done. I might be the duke now, but I refuse to act as if I'm not able to even lift a finger."

"As you wish, Your Grace." The butler bowed, and then disappeared, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

Dear Lord, he would never get used to all that bowing and Your Gracing. Letting out a harsh sigh, he pushed himself out of the chair, and wandered over to the still full bottle of scotch waiting for him. It wouldn't do his headache any good, but he needed just a few more glasses before he could go to bed. He took a huge sip, welcoming the burn of the alcohol down his throat as he walked over to the window, staring out into the darkness.

When had his life taking this turn for the worse?

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the window pane. He knew exactly when it had happened. The day he'd gotten the letter telling him he needed to come home because Liam was sick. His brother had been only skin and bones when Killian finally made it home, the consumption taking all the life out of him, and all Killian could do was throw himself into the night life, drinking until he couldn't stand anymore, fucking his way through more than one brothel, doing everything he could to forget that he was losing his brother.

His hand started to cramp again, and Killian opened his eyes, looking down at it. Another souvenir of the time when he completely lost control of his life because his brother was dying, and he could do nothing to help him. He'd been in a duel, showed up piss drunk, and so Huntingham didn't want to hurt him, Killian's drunkenness was the cause of one wrong move, and Huntingham's saber had slid right through his hand.

It wasn't a pretty sight, the scar the saber had left behind was thick, spanning over half of his hand. The weapon had also damaged some nerves or tendons; he had to deal with frequent cramp attacks ever since. At least his drunken mistake hadn't caused him to lose his position in the navy; he couldn't go back anyway. When his injury had healed Liam was already dead, and Killian was the new Duke of Hillsborough.

For the umpteenth time he asked himself why Liam had to die; he'd been the perfect duke, being raised to once inherit the rights and duties of the dukedom. Killian had always been happy with his status as the younger son – the spare - more content to climb trees or spend his time in the stables than to sit down with their tutors to learn about English history, and fight his way through Latin and Greek grammar.

When it was time for him to do something with his life he chose the navy, and it had kept his wildness in check, taught him to take responsibility. For his own life, and the lives of those under his command. Being at sea … it had been the first time he truly felt at home. The ocean was in his blood, and he'd hoped that it would once be his grave. He always pictured himself going down in battle – a glorious death. But now he probably would drink himself to death, or die of a heart attack when he was an old decrepit bloke while fucking his mistress.

His life was a joke, a farce. He was only pretending, but he was tired of doing so. Tired of acting as if he bloody hell knew what he was doing, tired of drowning his sorrows in alcohol, tired of this life.

He wanted to be free again, free to do with his life what he wanted, free to go back to sea. But he couldn't, no matter how much he wished to. He was the Duke of Hillsborough now; he had responsibilities. He was supposed to produce heirs as soon as possible; his uncle was already breathing down his neck, his hands eager to give the title to his own son if Killian died without an heir. His cousin was an idiot, and he should make sure that he never inherited the dukedom. But he still didn't like it.

A knock on the door yanked him out of his thoughts, and he waited to hear the footsteps of his butler, but then he remembered he'd sent him to bed, and he let out a groan. Who in the hell was at the bloody door anyway? It was the middle of the night.

For a moment he contemplated to just ignore it, but maybe it was an emergency. With a silent curse he put his glass down on the table beside him, and walked briskly through the salon and crossed the hallway, removing the bolt and yanking the door opened.

 _That's new_ , was his first thought when he saw who'd knocked at the door. A woman standing on his doorstep in the middle of the night without a chaperon. Was she insane?

"What the bloody hell do you want?"

She looked at him like a frightened animal, and he realized he shouldn't have shouted at her like that. But it was the bloody middle of the night, and she shouldn't be standing in front of him at all. When she didn't speak up he cleared his throat, and her eyes snapped back to his, her posture stiffened.

"I'm here to make you an offer, Your Grace."

An offer? In the middle of the night? That could only mean one thing. His mouth tilted up into a smirk as he eyed her. She seemed to be quite pretty, and he might be drunk enough to actually take her up on the offer. A tumble in bed might be exactly what he needed.

"I want you to marry me."

_What?_

For a moment he could just stand there and stare down at her. Did she just propose to him? She held his gaze, clearly waiting for his answer and he fumbled in his muddled brain for something to say to this outrageous offer.

"Not the offer I was expecting," he replied, surprising himself probably more than her as he added, "But by all means, come on in. Might be an interesting story to listen to."

He was clearly drunker than he'd thought. There was no other explanation that would justify why he had let this strange woman into his house. One closer look at her clothes and their unmistakable quality, clearly indicated that she was not coming off the streets, and inviting her in would probably ruin her reputation if anyone might find out that she stepped into the house of a known scoundrel in the middle of the night. But her frank statement had caught him off guard, and as he looked at her refusing to avert her gaze, her posture stiff, her expression determined, his rakish self had reared its head, her blank offer intriguing him more than it probably should. Deep down he remembered that look, remembered all the animals he'd rescued during his childhood. She was wearing the same haunted look, and bloody hell, even after all these years, he was still receptive to that look.

He might at least listen to her story, because unlike the animals he'd cared for, she could actually talk to him, and there had to be an explanation why she came to him with a marriage proposal.

* * *

Seeing the duke now in the light of the flickering fire, Emma contemplated if she had completely lost her mind now. She was putting her fate into the hands of this stranger, a known rake. Why did she hope he would treat her differently than Neal? As far as she could remember no one ever cared for her, or what she wanted. After her parents died in a carriage accident when she was five, she came to live with her aunt and uncle. They treated her more like a servant than a relative, and when they decided to sell her to the highest bidder after she got of marriageable age, there was noting she could do about it. She was a woman of lower status, her father might have been a baron, but they didn't have much money – something her aunt kept reminding her of – and her aunt could practically do what she wanted with her.

So Emma married Richard Gold, knowing he would expect her to carry his heirs. What she didn't expect was that the earl was impotent, and asked of her to lay with his illegitimate son until she gave birth to a boy. There was not much she could do about that either, and though it had been uncomfortable to be bedded by Neal, despite the first sharp pain when he took her maidenhead, it had been just an unpleasant ordeal she needed to get through every night until she conceived. She more or less consented to it, seeing it as her duty as the earl's wife. After all every child she would give birth to would be considered his legitimate heir, no matter who the father really was.

Maybe she should have expected that Neal would turn on them. She knew he was depending on his father's money. Of course he resented that now everything belonged to Henry. She should have known.

"So tell me, Miss ..."

Emma had completely forgotten in which home she was standing, lost in her own thoughts, and it took her a few seconds until she realized that the duke was waiting for her to give him her name.

"Manton. It's Lady Manton."

If he was surprised about her carrying the title of a lady, he definitely didn't show it; his whole posture that of an arrogant, self-assured duke.

"What makes you think I would marry you?" he asked, reaching for a glass with amber liquid. Emma wished he would offer her some. Alcohol might help her keep up her courage. Especially when he was piercing her with this ice blue gaze. "Why shouldn't I take advantage of the fact that you showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night, and ravish you right here and there before throwing you back out on the street? I'm a duke. I can get away with almost everything. I'm sure you're aware of that."

Emma flinched, the movement not going unnoticed by him, his mouth titling up into a salacious smirk. But he didn't come nearer, was still leaning against the window, and she relaxed slightly. He didn't look as if he wanted to ravish her, not to mention that her offer did mean she had to let him into her bed eventually.

"It would be the perfect arrangement, Your Grace."

"It would?" he asked, his voice a mocking drawl.

"I would not interfere with your life, Sir. But you would have a wife who is evidently not barren …" His eyebrow shot up in question, and she realized she hadn't said anything about Henry yet. "I have already a five-year-old son. His name is Henry." She was starting to ramble as she saw a furrow building between his brows. She hoped the fact that she had a son wouldn't put him off. She was doing this for Henry after all. "He is very well behaved, and wouldn't be under your feet in any way. But he is proof that I can bear children, and you're in desperate need of heirs. I can give you that."

"You seem to have it all planned out. So you're willing to share your bed with me, Lady Manton?"

"Only until I conceive, of course. I …" she trailed off, trying not to fidget under his amused gaze. "I won't stand in your way if you seek your pleasures in the arms of other women."

"How gracious," he replied, waving with the glass in his hand, telling her silently to go on.

"I just have one condition."

"And what would that be?"

"During the time we try to produce an heir you can't visit your mistress."

"Afraid to catch something if I do?"

"I ..." Emma bit her tongue, not wanting to tell him that she just couldn't live with the thought that he was bedding someone else while he was bedding her. "It's my only condition."

"So pray tell me … why do you want to marry again anyway?" he inquired, crossing his legs at the ankles, looking as if he had not one care in the world. "Why don't you enjoy the advantages of being a young widow? Take a lover for example?"

She would if she could. If it wasn't for Neal, she might be content to spend the rest of her life as a widow. But Neal destroyed that possibility once and for all. "My husband's son is threatening Henry, threatens to expose him."

"Expose him how?" he questioned, a flash of interest flickering over his face.

"Promise me this won't leave the room, Sir."

"I can promise you that, but I am a notorious rake as you well know. So what makes you think I'll keep my word?"

"Because you're still a gentleman, and will honor a word you've given?"

"Because it's good form?" One of his eyebrows cocked up again, and she forced herself to not avert her gaze. He tilted his head then, his expression suddenly turning serious as he said softly, "Aye, I swear to keep it between us on my brother's grave."

"Thank you," Emma whispered, closing her eyes for a second to gather more courage. It was a high risk she was taking here, but if she'd seen any other way out of her predicament she wouldn't be standing here right now, asking him to marry her. "Henry isn't the Earl of Manton's son. He is his grandchild." There was no hint of surprise showing on the duke's face, and why should he be surprised? These kind of things were fairly common in the ranks of nobility. "His son, Neal, expected to inherit, even though he is only Richard's illegitimate son, and Richard never made him his official heir, which means Henry inherited everything. But Neal is greedy, he wants it all, and Richard only left him with a small annual allowance. Something Neal isn't contented with. Now he threatens to expose our secret, and I know he can't change that Henry is Richard's heir, but he can sully his name. We both know the ton thrives on rumors, and the rumor of his mother being a whore who spread her legs for the son of her husband can ruin his life, and I would do anything to protect him from Neal's thirst for vengeance. I'm sure your name would keep the rumors in check. He probably wouldn't even dare try to start any."

Emma was taking in a deep breath and holding it, trying to figure out what he was thinking, trying to read his expression, but she couldn't tell. His face was a polite mask as he kept his eyes locked on hers. Seconds ticked by, and her heart plummeted into her stomach. He would say no, he would brush her offer just off and crush her last hope of protecting her son.

"Let me sleep on it," he finally said, surprising her.

Before Emma could say anything he was by her side, leading her back to the door with his hand on the small of her back, the barely there contact burning like fire.

"Thank you for listening to me," Emma murmured as she stepped out of the house. "Have a good night, Your Grace."

A short curtsy, and she was gone into the night, her fate and that of her son now in the hands of a man she barely knew anything about, and Emma desperately tried not to listen to the doubts ricocheting through her brain. But she couldn't stop them, and a voice in her head didn't cease whispering that she'd probably just made the biggest mistake of her life.

* * *

The door clicked shut behind her, and Killian leaned his head against the wood, balling his left hand into a fist as far as it would go, welcoming the pain shooting up his arm.

Was he completely insane now? He was really contemplating on taking her up on her offer?

But she was right; it seemed to be a perfect arrangement. It would get his uncle off his back, and he needed to marry sooner or later anyway. Might as well marry a woman who wouldn't make his life a living hell.

"You sure you have all your marbles still straight, Jones," he muttered under his breath, pushing away from the door.

Now he even started to talk to himself. He needed to go to bed; he definitely needed sleep, and he should definitely be sober when he was about to make a decision that concerned the rest of his life.


	3. Chapter 3

"What have I done?"

Emma leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. It was raining, and a part of her wished she could just run outside and let the rain wash away all her sorrows.

"The only thing you could," Ruby assured, stepping beside her. "You know you can stay here as long as you like. But I'm considered part of the demimonde, as you well know, and as much as Victor and I would like to help you, we can't actually keep Neal from spreading rumors."

"I know," Emma said softly, turning around to walk back to the settee in the middle of the room. Suddenly she felt chilled down to her bones, and watching the rain seemed to pull her deeper into a gloomy mood, but she forced herself to smile at her friend when Ruby sat down opposite of her. "You two are doing more than enough."

"So … how is he in person?" Ruby leaned back, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Tell me every little detail."

"Rude. Obnoxious." A picture of the duke standing with crossed arms and ankles before her flitted through her brain, and she sighed softly. "A rogue through and through."

"And?"

"Very handsome, and he knows it."

"But do you think he will agree? Do you think he will marry you?"

"I don't know, Ruby," Emma replied, tilting her head to stare out of the window again. "I really don't know."

Her best friend left her shortly after, called away on an urgent matter concerning the menu the cook wanted to present this evening, and Emma relaxed into the settee.

She was currently staying at Ruby's house, so that she didn't have to face Neal. Henry loved it here, having way more freedom in Ruby's household than he had at the mansion that now belonged to him. The staff was less stuffy, and everyone was doting on him. Emma was grateful that he was getting distracted; he might be young but he still missed Richard, the man he thought had been his father. Richard didn't have much contact with Henry, but a few times he actually took Henry with him when he went out, and Henry always came back with bright eyes, and a ton of new stories to tell her.

It might be the best for Henry that he was in another house now, and Emma had told the household she was visiting a friend, but it wouldn't keep Neal away forever. Right now he wasn't even in London, he'd been called away the morning after he'd forced himself on her. But she tried not to think about that night, tried to keep it in the dark recesses of her mind. Letting it come out would make it impossible to go through with her plan to marry the duke.

She hadn't told Ruby everything, just that Neal wanted to start rumors, not about what happened the last time she saw him. Ruby and Victor would try to take actions, would try to find a way to bring her justice, but they were too way down the social ladder to actually do any harm to him, and she didn't want her friends to end up in prison because Victor called him out.

It was better if her friends didn't know, at least until she got a response from the duke. If he dismissed her offer, she might have to tell them nonetheless, to keep Neal away from doing her or Henry bodily harm.

She walked back to the window, staring out in the rain, her stomach clenching as she contemplated what her future might hold for her. Emma was well aware that Killian Jones might turn out to be not better than Neal, but she was willing to face the devil she didn't know, before staying with the devil she did know.

* * *

"You look terrible, Jones."

Hearing his friend's voice made Killian's lips pull up into a grin. The only one who called him Jones was his former partner in crime at sea, so to speak. Robin of Locksley, Baron Backhurst. And he was also the only one who could just waltz into his house without being announced.

"And you look quite dashing, Locksley," Killian replied, taking his cup of coffee to the next chair and sitting down, eyeing his friend over the rim of the cup. "Did Lady Mills finally say yes to your proposal?"

"No," Robin told him, slumping into the seat opposite of him, letting out a theatrical sigh. "The lady is still very reluctant to relent to my courtship."

"At least you're the one proposing," Killian muttered under his breath, remembering last night in vivid details.

"What was that, Jones?"

"Nothing."

"No, it's clearly not nothing," Robin insisted, leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees, ready to hear the story. "What is it?"

Killian knew his friend wouldn't stop pestering him until he told him everything, so taking evading measures was pointless. "I received a proposal last night."

"A proposal? As in a marriage proposal?" Robin's eyes grew wide for a moment, and then his mouth tilted up into a grin, and he chuckled softly as he walked towards the tray with coffee to pour himself a cup. "That's new."

"You take the words out of my mouth."

"And who was the exceptional female who invaded your home to propose marriage?"

"You should have taken up a career in Covent Garden. Your speech is more suited for the theatre."

"Who?" Robin asked again, sitting back down opposite of Killian.

"Lady Manton," Killian told him. "Do you know her?"

"Only by name. You know I'm not much about in society these days."

_Since you decided to spend more time with the son your first wife has born you_ , Killian thought. Killian looked at his friend, at the lines his past sorrows had etched into Robin's face. Maybe their friendship was so deep, because they both knew what it felt like to lose people they loved, and how hard it could sometimes be to go on with their lives without them.

"And you're considering it," Robin continued, his eyes watching him warily.

"I'm tired of this life, Robin. Tired of pretending to be someone I'm not."

Killian rarely used his friend's given name, the only times he'd called him that where the times on sea when being the captain had been weighting down on him too much. Those times when he'd either drowned himself in alcohol and whores, or stayed in his cabin with a bottle of rum. Robin had found him once in his cabin, and somehow over sharing the bottle of rum they'd started to talk. It had been that night that really sealed their friendship.

"I know, Killian."

And Robin did know. He was probably the only one who knew that the scoundrel persona Killian was living was only a facade, a mask he put on to be able to live a life he didn't want to live. But Robin also knew that Killian was doomed to this life now. He had to oblige his duties, he couldn't walk away and leave everything in shambles. A lot of people were depending on him now, and no matter how much he loathed it, he wouldn't shirk his obligations.

"Do you still have your connections?" Killian asked, after staring into space for quite some time. He desperately wished for a glass of brandy, but he never drank before three o'clock in the afternoon.

"You want to find out more about her?"

"Yes." He pushed himself up from the chair, too restless to sit still. "I need to know of her past, and while you are at it, make sure to take a look at the late Earl's illegitimate son."

"So you really want to marry her?"

"You and I both know that I need an heir, if I don't wish that the dukedom goes to my imbecile cousin," Killian replied, walking towards the window to stare out into the rain. "And I guess she is as good as any other woman."

"No, that's not it. There is something more."

"Stop poking around, Locksley." Killian sighed inwardly, not in the mood to argue about it now. "It's none of your business."

"Ahhh, I see."

"What?" Killian snapped as he whirled around to face his friend, not liking the tone of his voice.

"She might become one of your projects."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You do." Robin said firmly, and of course Killian did know what Robin was talking about. His friend knew him too well, that was the problem. But fortunately he decided to let him off the hook for the day. "I'm not gonna pry more. But please be careful. Not all damsels in distress are really in distress. A few are conniving bitches. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing?"

"That's why I'm asking for your help. Find out what you can about her."

* * *

Killian received a letter from Robin only three days later with all the details his friend could find on such a short notice. Her full name was Emma Swan, Lady Manton. She had a five-year old son, and was two-and-twenty of age.

Reading her name conjured up a picture of her in his mind. Green eyes looking at him with determination, and a hint of despair. She might have worn a coat which obscured most of her figure, but the grace of her neck and hands had suggested that she might be magnificent to look at. Killian was scoundrel enough to admit that the wish to take the bonnet from her head and pull out all the pins to let her long blonde hair unravel down her back had crossed his mind. He groaned as his mind came up with more lewd pictures – how her breasts would pop out of her dress when he pulled it down, her rosy peaks greeting his hungry mouth; how slippery wet she might be when he let his fingers slip between her legs; which sounds she would make when he brought her to climax.

But every lewd thought vanished out of his brain when he resumed reading the letter. Emma hadn't have an easy life so far. Losing her parents very young, living with relatives who only tolerated her, foisting her off to a much older man as soon as possible. Calculating it in his head he realized that Emma had only been sixteen when she conceived Henry, and sudden anger welled up in him. Killian knew that Emma wasn't the exception, that it happened often enough that women of such young age were married to way older men, especially when those men needed an heir, and apparently, in Emma's case, it went even so far that Emma had to sleep with the Earl's illegitimate son to produce the wanted heir.

Robin's contact didn't find out much about Neal, other than he was the illegitimate son of the late Earl, and that he was four-and-twenty of age. Richard Gold had been in Ireland at the time Neal was conceived, and it would take greater efforts to find out more about him.

Killian didn't need to know more though, the information he received good enough to reach a decision. He folded the letter, letting it drop on his desk, and his hand automatically reached for the glass of scotch, the alcohol burning down his throat when he leaned back in his chair.

Apparently Emma was what you could call a damsel in distress, but he'd also seen the courage in her eyes. She'd seen a way out of her misery, and took action. She didn't wait for a knight in shining armor to come to her rescue. She thought out the knight in shining armor herself. She proposed marriage to him, and Killian knew as he looked at the letter that she might not be a damsel in distress, but he was willing to be her knight in shining armor nonetheless.

* * *

Emma's hands were shaking when she opened the letter she'd received from the duke. The letter had arrived with a footman she didn't know, and upon asking the footman told her that his master ordered him to give this letter to the lady only, and no one else. Asking the footman to wait a few minutes in case she needed him to take back her answer, she rushed into the salon where she found Ruby.

The message was short and to the point. The duke was accepting her offer, and would send his solicitor to her tomorrow morning with the marriage contract.

Emma told Ruby to write a short answer to tell the duke that she wasn't at the Earl's mansion right now, and to give him the address where the solicitor could find her. Evading all of her friend's questions, she opted to go for a walk, only coming back to the house in the afternoon, the fresh air not helping to ease her frazzled mind.

Emma hardly slept that night, worries keeping her up. Worries that the solicitor might not show up, that the duke might change his mind over night, that marrying him was a mistake. Her mind didn't stop spinning, and dark circles had formed under her eyes when she looked at her reflection in the morning.

She only picked at her breakfast, her hands perspiring, her heart galloping in her chest as she waited for the solicitor to arrive. When he was announced an hour later, she stood up so quickly that dark spots appeared in front of her eyes and she almost crashed face first into the remnants of their breakfast. It took her a few minutes to convince Ruby that she was alright, and more than capable to receive the solicitor, but in the end her friend let her go to greet him. He was a short man with a bald head, impeccable clothed, and a monocle hanging on a chain around his neck; a man who came straight to the point the moment she joined him.

"You might want to go over it with your solicitor, Lady Manton," he told her as he handed the contract to her. "But everything should be like His Grace and Your Ladyship agreed on."

"Thank you, Mr. Grayson. I will get the contract back to His Grace as soon as possible."

It wasn't as if she really felt the need to let her own solicitor look over the contract, it was just that she wanted to read it first, or more accurately let it be read to her. There were only a few people who knew that she was practically illiterate. She could read short messages, like the missive the duke had sent her yesterday, but long texts were always leaving her distraught, the letters starting to dance in front of her eyes when she concentrated too much on them.

Emma would let Ruby read it to her; just to be safe. If everything was as they agreed on, she would put her signature under it – something she was always struggling with, because writing down her name was the only words she could put down on paper with great effort – and the duke would receive a message that she was willing to marry him in a fortnight, and then she had to tell Henry that they were about to move to a new home.

* * *

Killian was pausing in front of the room, straightening his shoulders. He definitely didn't look forward to this visit, and the notion that he dreaded to walk in almost elicited a chuckle out of him. Shouldn't a man be happy about entering his mistress' room?

Shaking his head, he reached for the knob and walked in, shedding his coat, hat and cravat in the boudoir, opening the first buttons of his shirt as he stepped into the adjacent room.

Milah greeted him with a seductive smile, immediately walking towards him, only clad in a dressing gown that revealed more than it hid. She was still a beautiful woman, even if she was closer to forty than thirty.

"I haven't seen you in a while, Killian," she purred as she stepped in front of him, letting her nails trail along the open V of his shirt.

"I was busy, Milah," he replied curtly, changing his tone instantly when she looked up at him with a pout on her face. "But I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," she replied in a husky voice, her fingers skimming lower until she could rub the palm of her hand over his already hardening cock.

"But before we begin I have to tell you something."

"You do?"

"I wanted you to hear it from me, and not the gossip mill," Killian began, watching her carefully. He was dreading her reaction, to be honest. She was a very temperamental person after all, but he hoped the reaction would be less violent if he was the one telling her about it. "I will marry in a fortnight, and I agreed not to visit my mistress until my wife has conceived a child."

He had expected a burst of outrage, probably being hit by her fists, but not that Milah would burst into laughter.

"Great jest, Killian. You almost convinced me it's true."

"It  _is_  true, Milah," he told her, cringing inwardly as her eyes turned from seductive to sharp in a blink of an eye.

"Who is she?" she asked harshly.

"Doesn't really matter," Killian said, slipping his hand under her dressing gown to squeeze her ass. "I intend to stay true to my word. So this will be the last time I come to visit you for quite some time."

"Then we should make it worth your while, shouldn't we?"

Her dressing gown hit the ground a moment later, and she leaned forward, intent on kissing him. But he wasn't in the mood for much foreplay today. He grasped her shoulders, putting pressure on them, and her mouth curled up into a wicked smile as she immediately caught on to what he wished from her. She went down on her knees, opening his breeches and drawers and pulling them down his legs, closing her mouth instantly around his length. She was good at it, otherwise he wouldn't have taken her as his mistress, and she brought him to climax very fast, considering that his mind was not really here in this room.

Killian let out a guttural groan as he spilled his release down her throat, keeping his grip on her hair until he emptied himself completely before he let her stand up again. She was smiling at him as she lifted her hand to wipe away a smear of his seed from the corner of her mouth, before she strolled to the bed and laid down on the mattress, splaying her legs invitingly.

He had intended to visit her to have a last good fuck with her, but now he didn't feel up to it anymore. But he never left a woman unsatisfied, so he joined her on the bed and slipped his good hand between her legs, watching her slightly detached as he worked two of his fingers in and out of her, rubbing her sensitive nub until she bowed up from the mattress, and her inner walls clenched around his fingers.

Killian pushed away from her as soon as possible, and Milah didn't say a word, knowing him too well to argue why he was already leaving. He cleaned his fingers on the handkerchief she was giving him, before he fastened his drawers and breeches again. He let his lips brush over her cheek when he said goodbye, and he noticed the smile flickering over her lips, and the victorious glint in her eyes. She didn't believe he could stay away from her for long. But when Killian walked out into the night, pulling his hat deeper down over his brows and his coat closer around his body to ward of the chill of the autumn night, he knew that he wouldn't come here for a while.

He was about to get married in a fortnight, and even if he was a rogue - or supposed to be one – he were still trying not to lose all his honor. He would stand to his word. No visits to his mistress as long as he was sharing Emma's bed.


	4. Chapter 4

"Your Grace, Mrs. Pierce wants to go over the menu with you whenever you find the time."

Killian rolled his eyes when his butler entered the study with this pronouncement. The female part of his staff kept nagging him for the last days about this and that. How many guests would come? If they needed to prepare rooms for guests who might need to stay for the night? About decorations and meals, and his head was about to explode with all these questions. But when he whined to Robin about it his friend just told him that the marriage might be only one of convenience for both parts, but that his bride might appreciate it if he put some effort into the whole ceremony, and not just treat it like he was signing one of his business contracts.

Killian knew Robin was right, and even though he hadn't spoken to Emma in person since she'd showed up on his doorstep ten days ago, he considered it his duty to make the day of their wedding as comfortable for her as he could. There was no love involved in their union, but he was adamant to treat her with respect. After all she would hopefully be the mother of his children one day, and he didn't want to have one of those marriages that were normal for the ton; spouses who hardly talked to each other and ignored each other most of the times. If it was possible he wanted to at least establish a friendship with Emma over the time.

Robin was also the one who told him that the marriage would be easier on both of them if he also made an effort to get acquainted with the child Emma would bring into the marriage, and not ignore him. Killian had to admit he felt a little queasy about that prospect, but Henry would live with them, and Killian still remembered his own childhood and how alone he would have felt if it hadn't been for his older brother taking him with him everywhere. So he'd gone to a wood carver a few days ago, and dazzled him with a considerable amount of one pound notes, so that the present he had in mind would be finished when the day of the wedding came around.

Killian wasn't trying to win Emma's heart with this gesture, he didn't expect to ever have deeper feelings for his soon-to-be wife, didn't want to have any to be precise, but he was hell bent on making the changes in their lives as easy as he could for all of them.

* * *

Emma was standing in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection with a critical eye. She was glad that she didn't have to ask the duke for money to provide a suitable wedding gown, suitable for the new Duchess of Hillsborough.

Now that the day of the wedding was finally here she couldn't calm her nerves any longer. She was about to marry a complete stranger, a man she needed to welcome in her bed with open arms because that were the conditions of their marital contract, and no matter how much she feared being intimate with the duke, she should feel grateful that he purchased a special license and would marry her before Neal came back from the country and could intervene.

Emma let her shaking fingers trail over the embroidered fabric of her gown, tried to force her thoughts away from what would happen in a few hours behind closed doors, instead she tried to concentrate on why she was marrying the duke in the first place.

For Henry.

"You look beautiful, Emma."

Emma locked eyes with Ruby in the mirror, forcing herself to smile at her best friend who'd helped her with her coiffure and dress, not wanting to let her see how anxious she really was about this marriage.

"Beautiful, mommy," Henry's voice came from the doorway, and tears pricked the back of her eyes as she looked at her son, being all proper in the small waistcoat and great coat she'd purchased for him, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Ready?" she asked him, stretching her hand out for him.

The talk with Henry had been easier than she'd anticipated, her son only wanted to know if the duke had horses, and if she thought he might let him ride them one day. Emma had assured him that the duke had a huge stable, assuming that he had, at least at his estate, and that Henry might get to ride a horse one day if he was behaving properly and politely. Henry had been nodding his head vigorously, promising her that he would be super good in front of the duke, so that he could ride the horses whenever he wanted. Emma really hoped she didn't have to let her son down if it turned out that Killian didn't want Henry to get in his ways. She hadn't really talked with the duke about it, and she realized belatedly that she should have talked about the boundaries he wanted to draw when it came to her son. But it was too late to worry about this now. Time would tell if Henry's wish would be fulfilled. Nothing she could do about it now.

Fortunately it would be a small ceremony, held in the duke's mansion, only their closest friends attending. There would be a formal dinner afterwards, but no great affair. She just wished it'd already be all over, and the wedding night behind her.

Henry's fingers closed around hers, and she smiled down at him, straightening her shoulders when Victor came into the room and announced that the carriage the duke had sent for her had just arrived.

There was no going back now. She had to be strong, and go through with it. For Henry.

* * *

A few doubts had flickered through his brain from time to time over the course of the last two weeks, if he'd be able to consummate the marriage without any difficulties. After all no real feelings were connecting him to Emma. No love, no passion. Just duty, and a sense of 'white knight in shining armor' syndrome. But when she stepped into the salon with her hair pinned up into complicated braids at the top of her head, her lithe body clad in a shimmering gown of pale yellow with flowers embroidered over her small waist, all doubts evaporated in an instance.

She was a beautiful woman. He didn't need to fear. He could already feel his loins stir to life when she walked towards him and stopped beside him, her eyes fluttering up to his for own brief moment. He told the pastor to hold out for a minute as he gestured towards his butler to bring in the present he bought for Henry, and he forced himself not to look for Emma's reaction as he kneeled down in front of Henry to give him the small carved wooden horse. The boy's eyes lit up, and he looked up at his mother, clearly asking for permission to accept the present. Apparently he got confirmation because a second later his small hands closed around the horse and he pulled it against his chest, shooting him a big grin as he mumbled a thanks before plopping down on his seat and staring down at the horse in his hands.

Killian felt a surge of satisfaction rush through him as he met Emma's gaze when he straightened, and saw the wonder in her eyes. It had been the right idea to buy her son a small present, and her shaky smile was a welcoming reward.

The ceremony started without further delays, and Killian casted glances towards her out of the corner of his eyes throughout it, suddenly wishing he could read her mind when her voice whispered the marital vows which made her his wife, wished he would know what she was thinking when she stared up at him while he recited the vows that would bind them together forever. But he couldn't read her expression.

At the end of the ceremony Killian intended to brush the skin of her cheek with a chaste kiss, but then he turned his head at the last moment and planted his lips on hers. Her mouth trembled under his, and he increased the pressure of his lips just a fraction, letting his tongue flick against her bottom lip. Her mouth opened in a soft, surprised gasp, and he was scoundrel enough to take advantage of it and surge forward, twining his tongue with hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed her body flush against his.

She looked at him startled as he released her, her green eyes glued to his as she clearly fought for composure. He made it easier for her, and stepped back, letting the congratulates sweep them away, but he kept watching her throughout dinner, studying the slight changes in her facial expression. He wanted to touch her, wanted to kiss her again. He didn't expect to feel anything for her, but he couldn't deny that lust coursed through his body when her laughter rang out as she listened to something Henry told her.

The boy was getting tired; Killian could see him rubbing his eyes every few minutes, and he called for the nurse, telling her to bring Henry to bed. Emma was hesitating slightly, clearly wanting to not let her son out of her sight, and Killian walked over to her, laid his hand on her shoulder and leaned down to whisper in her ear that she could join them in a few minutes, after they'd said goodbye to their guests, and he felt her relax under his hand, her mouth tilting up into a thankful smile as he pulled her chair back and hold his hand out to her.

When he closed the door behind the last guest, she excused herself and went up the stairs. He followed her with his eyes, deciding to go into his study for a last drink to give her a few minutes with her son and time for her to get ready for the wedding night, before he would join her.

* * *

Emma thought she could do it, thought it would be easier, but now as she was sitting on the bed with her nakedness barely concealed by the silk negligee, waiting for her new husband to join her in the marital bed, she didn't think she'd be able to consummate the marriage with him.

Her heart was racing in her chest, the muscles in her whole body were jumping as she tried to keep the panic at bay. She was telling herself over and over again that she could get through it, that she could separate her mind from her body and let him take her. The marriage needed to be consummated to be legal, and the whole point of this marriage was to keep her son safe.

She was doing this for Henry. She could do this.

Her son was sleeping a few rooms down the hall, and she was trying to distract herself with thoughts about him. The day had exited him beyond measure, and he had still been babbling nonstop when she'd stepped into his room to say goodnight one hour ago. He'd insisted on taking the carved wooden horse Killian gave him into bed with him, and Emma couldn't refuse him as he'd grinned up at her with pleading eyes.

She should hold on to that picture - Killian crouching in front of her son, presenting him the intricately carved wooden horse. Killian wasn't a monster, the whole day had showed her that he was a nice man, even the kiss after they'd exchanged the necessary wedding vows had been pleasant if surprising, but appearances could be deceiving, and her body tensed even more as she imagined his weight pressing her into the mattress while he forced himself inside of her.

Vision of Neal flickered over her closed eyelids, his menacing voice ringing in her ears, the memories of the pain he'd inflicted on her shaking her body, and her breathing became erratic, the urge to flee before her new husband came into the room was almost overwhelming.

She couldn't do it. This had been a mistake. She couldn't share her bed with her husband. She couldn't.

Her fingers fisted the sheet in a white-knuckled grip, and her legs jerked with the need to jump up and run out of the room, to take her son and flee into the night. She was about to push the sheet away and take flight as the door creaked, and her husband stepped into the room.

* * *

His wife was a vision, and Killian stopped in the middle of the room, taking her in, suddenly realizing how fortunate he could consider himself that his wife was such a beauty. He might have married her out of duty to the dukedom, but producing heirs with her might turn out to be more pleasure than work. The glow of the fire and the candles scattered throughout the room were bathing her in a golden light, her loose hair was spilling out over her back, and his fingers itched to thread through it, to open the bows holding her negligee together at her shoulders, to reveal her body to his hungry eyes.

He felt his cock stand up to attention, throbbing inside of his breeches, and the thought of slipping inside of her warm, wet sheath almost made him shudder with anticipation. But then a flicker of the flames showed him the anxious expression in her eyes, the rigid posture of her body, the fact that her fingers were curled around the sheet so that her knuckles were even whiter than the sheet itself, and it was as if someone had downed a bucket of ice cold water over his body.

She was afraid of him. She was afraid he would force himself on her, to cause her pain, and for the first time he wondered about the nature of her sexual experiences up to this point; it didn't look as if the Earl's illegitimate son had showed her the pleasures a woman should experience in bed. She was shaking like a leaf, her eyes averted down now, and he gritted his teeth, fighting with the emotions coursing through his veins. Protectiveness, anger, the urge to hit something, to hurt the one who put that fear into her. But instead of acting on the wish to pull her into his arms and soothe her anguish, he decided to treat more carefully. He would never harm her, and he needed her to know that, to understand that she didn't have to fear him.

"It's late, milady," he said softly, trying to soothe her with the tender timbre of his voice. "We should go to sleep."

Killian didn't wait for her reaction, instead he walked around the room to blow out the candles, only ridding himself of his clothes when the room was only illuminated by the glowing fire, and for the sake of his wife he pulled out one of the nightgowns he didn't normally wear, before he slipped into bed with her.

He forced himself to breathe evenly to give her the illusion that he was falling asleep quickly, but he couldn't let sleep take him until he felt her finally lay down beside him, and he wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her breathe out a sigh of relief as she relaxed into the mattress.

Killian waited until he was certain she'd fallen asleep before he turned to his side and watched her in the soft glow the dying fire was casting over her face and body. She was as beautiful in sleep as she was when awake, and he suppressed the urge to twirl a lock of her golden hair around his finger, ignored the stirring of his cock when he watched her chest rise and fall, saw the nipples of her firm breasts strain against the fine fabric of her negligee. Careful not to wake her, he pulled the sheet up to her chin, skimming his thumb over her cheek before he leaned back into the pillow again, and closed his eyes.

He was willing to give her some time to get used to him. He wanted their marital intercourse to be pleasurable for both sides, and not just a necessary act with the goal of getting her with child. If she needed time, he would give her time. They were both still young. There was no need to rush anything.


	5. Chapter 5

Emma didn't consider it possible that she could fall asleep, but after her husband hadn't moved for quite some time her eyelids grew heavy, and she succumbed to the need for sleep. When she woke up and opened her eyes slowly her husband was still lying fast asleep beside her, his body visible in the dim morning light that filtered through the curtains, so that she was able to study his sleeping face.

Her husband was an enigma to her; he didn't act like all the other men she'd met before in her life. He'd been considerate to Henry without knowing him, and he hadn't forced himself on her last night. That was something Emma couldn't understand. She'd expected him to consummate the marriage, despite her utter fear, but he hadn't even touched her.

She watched him more closely, as if his sleeping face could give her the answers she needed. But all she could see was how handsome he was. His long eye lashes were curved upwards at the end, and she wondered if they would feel soft to the touch. A faint scar was marring his cheek, and she felt the wish to find out how he'd gotten it. Same with the scar she could see peeking out of the open V of his nightshirt, or the cause of his mangled left hand.

Emma didn't know much about her husband, didn't have the time to do much research about him before proposing marriage. But now she felt the urge to find out more about him.

Did his hand hurt him? What were his dreams when he was a boy? How had it been to grow up with a real family? Did he miss his brother and parents?

But the most pressing question was … why didn't he attempt to consummate the marriage?

Emma still contemplated that question as she saw him stir, and she pressed her eyes shut swiftly, forcing herself to breathe evenly. She wasn't ready to face him yet, the fear of having to share her body with him rushing back to the surface, and she kept lying stock still until she heard the door close behind him before opening her eyes again to stare up at the ceiling while her mind was reeling with all these unanswered questions.

* * *

Killian tried to think about anything else than Emma while he was devouring his breakfast, but didn't have much success. So he was glad about the distraction when a head popped around the door, and Henry looked at him with a broad grin on his face.

"Can I join you?" the boy asked, already rushing inside without waiting for Killian's answer.

"Of course you can, Henry," Killian replied, smiling at the eagerness of the lad. "Take a seat."

It took some wiggling around and some help from Killian until Henry was sitting on the chair, his eyes barely able to look over the edge of the table, and Killian called for his butler as he noticed the predicament.

"Barnes, we need a few pillows to make it more comfortable for the lad," he said the moment the butler appeared in the doorframe, and a few minutes later Henry was sitting comfortable with a plate laden with ham and eggs in front of him, a huge glass of milk standing beside the plate.

They ate in silence for a few minutes until the lad's hunger was apparently sated and he started to fidget around on his chair, his eyes looking up at Killian excitedly as he asked, "Do you have horses?"

"Aye, I have quite a few in my stables," Killian replied. "More back at my estate. Why are you asking?"

"I want to ride them."

"All of them?" Killian asked, suppressing the chuckle bubbling up in his chest when Henry nodded eagerly. "We'll see what we can do. Have you ridden on a horse before?"

Henry was shaking his head in negation, and Killian leaned across the table to put his hand on the lad's shoulder. "That won't be a problem. We're gonna teach you how to ride."

"Terrific," Henry exclaimed, another question spilling out of his mouth a second later, "Can we start today?"

Before Killian could answer that question Henry's nurse rushed into the room with a flustered expression on her face, curtsying deeply before him before addressing Henry.

"Henry, what are you doing here?" Eleanor asked in a whisper, shooting Killian another glance as she said sheepishly, "I'm sorry, Your Grace. He ran away from me."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Killian told her, trying to put her at ease. "We had a lovely breakfast together, hadn't we?"

"Killy lets me ride his horses," Henry cried out excitedly, shifting on his chair and almost toppling down if Eleanor hadn't kept him upright with a hand to his shoulder.

"You can't call Your Grace by his given name, Henry," she chided softly. "I've told you that."

"Actually he can," Killian contradicted her, his mouth curling up into a lopsided grin as he added with a wink to Henry, "You can call me anything you like, Henry."

Henry scrambled down from his chair then and rushed over to him, holding up his arms and it took Killian a moment before he realized Henry wanted him to lift him up. A strange feeling settled into his stomach as he hauled the lad up onto his lap, his heart constricting with an emotion he couldn't pinpoint as Henry's small arms wrapped around his neck and his lips pressed a wet kiss on his cheek before shouting into his ear, "Thanks a lot for letting me ride your horses, Your Graceness."

Killian didn't correct him, shooting a warning look towards the nurse to not do it either, and tightened his arms around the lad. He only wanted to relish in the strange feeling Henry elicited in him for just a moment longer.

* * *

Killian stepped out of the breakfast room when Emma descended the stairs, and he nodded towards her sharply before walking towards the door, grabbing his hat and coat from Barnes and stepping out of the house, leaving Emma with a sense of relief since he'd granted her another reprieve, and she felt the tenseness in her shoulders loosen slightly.

When Emma entered the breakfast room Henry almost knocked her over as he rushed into her arms, talking excitedly about how Killian allowed him to ride his horses, and that he would teach him how. He was still rambling when Eleanor scooped him up in her arms and told him they needed to leave his mother alone, so that she could take her breakfast in peace, his voice carrying through the door as the nurse took him back up to his room to let him play with his toys.

Emma was still smiling when she sat down for her own breakfast, but the smile faltered as she looked at Killian's empty place at the table, reminding her of what had happened, or more accurately didn't happen, the night before. As she'd made herself presentable for breakfast with the help of her maid she'd realized that she couldn't feel happy about the non-consummation. The marriage needed a consummation to be legal, without it Killian could end the marriage at any point; a risk Emma hadn't the luxury to take. She needed to ask Ruby for help; her friend would know what Emma needed to do to make herself more desirable, to make it impossible for her husband to resist her feminine wiles.

Two hours later Emma was standing in the back room of Madame Durand's shop - a French dressmaker who made the best negligees, according to Ruby - and blushing profusely when the shopkeeper was assessing her from head to toe, telling her that she could work with what she was seeing. Emma was ordered to undress down to her shift, and then she was measured in a lot of inappropriate places, the blush on her cheeks deepening even further when Madame Durand pushed her breasts up and clicked her tongue in approval, mumbling something about how well they would be presented to her husband's gaze in one of her garments.

One hour later she was trussed into a black lace corset, conveniently laced at the front so that it could be put on without the help of a maid. It was completely see-through, embroidered at the hems with red roses and laced so tightly that her breasts almost popped completely out of it, her nipples only covered by a slim ribbon of white lace at the top of the corset.

Emma was still looking at her reflection with utter bafflement when something was slung around her waist and tied closed, and her mouth dropped open when her eyes fell on the extremely naughty nature of the garter, its dark color highlighting the bright locks between her legs. She was still staring when one of her feet was forced up and a silk stocking was slipped over her leg and fastened, her eyes taking in the delicate embroidery on the top as her mind calculated the cost of the whole arrangement. The second stocking was pulled up her other leg a moment later, and the dressmaker beamed at her as she told Emma to turn around and take a look at her reflection from all directions. Emma gulped hard as she looked at her backside over her shoulder; her ass was framed by the garter but otherwise completely naked, and she wasn't sure if she could muster up the courage to stand before Killian exposed like this.

"He won't be able to take his eyes of you, Your Grace. You'll see … these garments will have the desired effect on your husband."

Emma threw a last glance at her reflection and had to agree with some reluctance. After all, these undergarments were supposed to evoke an urgent desire in her husband. Emma needed every help she could get to make her husband willing to consummate the marriage; no matter what it'd cost her.

* * *

Killian was nursing his second scotch of the day in a quiet corner of the club, relaxing slightly as he always did here. He preferred the Traveller's club to White's or Brooks's, the members weren't as snobbish and it was easier to have a quite conversation in here, or just enjoy some solitude. Going to White's or Brooks's always meant that other peers were asking about his opinion on some political topic, or ask him to join them in a card game. Here no one tried to approach him, everyone knew he was the Duke of Hillsborough, and left him in peace most of the times.

Swirling the amber liquid around in his glass, he looked out of the window, deep in thought about how to make Emma feel more at ease, and as if Robin could read his mind, he started their conversation with a question about his marriage.

"So ... how is married life treating you, my friend?"

"I've only been married for a few hours, Locksley. You can't expect me to have an answer to that question just yet, can you?"

"Well, but the few hours included your wedding night, so ..." Robin trailed off, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk on his face.

"My wedding night is nothing you should feel the need to be concerned about," Killian snapped, rolling his eyes when his friend's grin broadened; the man loved to tease him.

"Probably not, but ..." Robin was interrupted by a loud voice coming from the entrance, and both men turned their heads to see who was the cause of the commotion.

"Ah, there is the pitiful groom," the man who'd just entered the room shouted, his gaze clearly on their corner of the room.

"Who the bloody hell is this?" Killian asked, watching the drunken man staggering towards them.

"It's Neal Gold," Robin told him, his friend putting down his glass on the table beside him, obviously preparing himself to jump to action if needed.

But Killian didn't have the time to really process that information; he stood up before the man could reach them, readying himself for the inevitable confrontation, knowing by the drunken state of the other man that it wouldn't run smoothly.

"How does it feel to be married to the most frigid woman London has ever seen?" Neal slurred, letting out a harsh chuckle, spit flying from his mouth as he continued, "It's too much work to pry her legs open, isn't it?"

White hot fury slammed into Killian out of nowhere, and without conscious thought he stepped forward and punched Neal square in the face, making him stumble backwards. But one punch didn't seem to be enough, and he slammed his left fist into the man's nose with enough force to break it, sending Neal down to the floor. A sharp pain shot through his left hand, and he stared down at his middle finger, the digit being curved unnaturally, obviously broken. But Killian ignored the pain throbbing through the joint, and leaned forward, wrapping his right hand around the man's shirt and hauling him up from the ground until their faces were only inches apart, ignoring the blood running out of Neal's nose.

"If you ever insult my wife again I will call you out," he hissed, watching with satisfaction as Neal's face blanched even further. "And you should know that I'm well versed in wielding any weapon you might choose. So stay the hell away from me and my wife, and you better keep your mouth shut if your life means anything to you."

* * *

"Barnes, send word to my solicitor. I need him to join me."

"Right away, Your Grace," Barnes said, the butler's eyes wandering towards Killian's hand. "Should I also send for Mr. Grackton?"

Killian looked down at his hand, the bloody knuckles and the crooked finger, and realized that that might be a good idea. "Yes, Barnes. It looks like I might need the surgeon."

He was downing his second glass of brandy when the surgeon arrived, and the man went to work in an instant, without asking any questions. Killian bit his tongue to keep the groans in check when the surgeon started to clean the blood from his knuckles and pulled the digit straight again before adjusting splinters around it to keep it stabilized. The surgeon was about to wrap a bandage around the hand when the solicitor arrived, and Killian waited for Mr. Grackton to finish his task and leave the room, before he told his solicitor what he needed of him. The man raised one eyebrow in question, but was intelligent enough to immediately sit down without one contrary comment to draw up the necessary document.

Killian knew it was completely unheard of - or at least he had never heard of something like this before - but his body was still rigid with fury, his rage had turned even hotter when he realized why Emma had showed this obvious fear when he'd stepped into their bedchamber yesterday. Neal must have forced himself on her, and Killian wished he had called the bastard out after all, but the realization had come too late; he'd already been on his way home, and he'd been determined to make sure Emma felt safe before thinking about how to deal with Neal.

* * *

Emma fidgeted with the belt of her robe nervously as she waited for Killian to come to their bedchamber that night. He hadn't joined her for dinner, even though she had heard him bark orders a few hours before. But he'd disappeared in his study and she'd been told that Her Grace didn't want to be disturbed, so she'd dined alone. Emma wasn't sure if it had been better for her nerves that she hadn't seen him since breakfast, or if not seeing him had achieved quite the contrary. Her head snapped up as she heard footsteps outside of the door; she was about to find out if her courage would hold up.

Goosebumps erupted over her skin as she let the robe drop from her shoulders the moment her husband entered, her heart racing in her chest as he closed the door behind him. She watched him walk towards her, but then he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks two steps into the room; he seemed to be shocked for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he let his gaze trail up and down her body. Her eyes flickered to his midsection, seeing the telltale sign of his arousal pressing against the fabric of his breeches; apparently not being desirable enough for him wasn't a problem after all.

When her eyes met his again she saw desire flickering over his gaze, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he gulped hard, reaching with his left hand for his head, and Emma noticed the bandage around his finger for the first time. She already opened her mouth to ask him what happened when his sharp voice interrupted her.

"I've let my solicitor draw up a document."

"A document?" Emma questioned, completely thrown by his choice of topic. She'd clad herself in these naughty undergarments to seduce her own husband, but despite his obvious arousal he apparently wanted to talk about some document.

Killian stepped forward and thrust a white envelope into her hand, his voice harsh as he said, "Written proof that our marriage is legitimate."

"But we didn't consummate the marriage yet," Emma whispered, the paper rustling in her fingers as she tightened her grip around it.

"I swore we did in front of witnesses," he replied, waving his uninjured hand towards the envelope. "It's all written down."

"I don't ..." Emma started to speak, but before she could finish her sentence her husband had turned around and left the room without another word.

She opened the envelope with shaking fingers, pulling out the single sheet and unfolding it slowly. Emma stared at the official document in her hands for over a minute, and then back to the door her husband had just disappeared through. Sitting down on the bed, she shook her head in astonishment as she looked over the words again and again, making out the words 'consummation' and 'proof of legality'.

One thing was for sure … she might never understand how her husband's mind worked.


	6. Chapter 6

Killian didn't come to bed that night, at least his side of the bed didn't look as if someone had slept in it, and Emma wondered what had gotten him so upset that he stayed out of their bedchamber all night. She didn't see him at breakfast either, and afterwards she went to visit Ruby, needing her friend to explain her husband's actions.

"Not that surprising, considering what happened," Ruby said after she'd perused the document for a few minutes.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked, staring at her friend in puzzlement.

"Your knight in shining armor defended your honor yesterday at the Traveller's Club. The gossip mill is already spreading it all over town."

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't know?"

"Do I look as if I know what happened?"

"He knocked Neal flat on his arse," Ruby explained. "Apparently gave him a broken nose, too. Because he said some demeaning things about you."

"Killian hit him?" Emma almost squealed in surprise.

"Yes, and if the gossip might be believed, he almost called him out, too."

"I can't believe it," Emma murmured, looking down at the document Ruby had given her back a few moments ago.

"It looks like you've reformed him already?"

"It doesn't seem as if he had to be reformed at all."

"Oh, believe me. He was an infamous rake over the last years, though for all I know he's only ever shown interest in widows. Never touched a virgin, or got close to any married women. Not that they haven't tried though. I know of a few married women and debutantes who would have gladly jumped into bed with him."

"But he doesn't act like a scoundrel," Emma mused, wondering again what kind of man her husband really was.

"Perhaps married life has tamed him?" Ruby jested, chuckling softly when Emma threw her an exasperated look.

But Ruby's words kept ricocheting through her mind, and maybe there was some truth in them. After all he'd apparently defended her honor, and she might not have entered the marriage with the wish to tame him, but developing mutual respect seemed a desirable objective. Suddenly a question rose up in her mind, something she wanted to know desperately, and the question was out of her mouth before she could change her mind, "Do you know what Neal exactly said about me?"

"The rumors might be over exaggerating, you know how the ton works, but ..." Ruby hesitated briefly, reaching for Emma's hand and squeezing it gently. "He apparently called you a frigid woman whose legs had to be pried open."

"I see," Emma said with a calmness she didn't feel; suddenly Killian handing her the document made a lot more sense.

Killian must have put the pieces together; the fear she couldn't hide from him at their wedding night combined with Neal's words must have showed him that Emma hadn't always let Neal willingly in her bed. The document he'd given her was his way to tell her that she was safe with him, and tears pricked the back of her eyes as she stared at the paper in her hand, her heart swelling with gratitude for her husband. She needed to thank him. For everything he was doing for her and Henry without asking for anything in return.

* * *

"So you broke it?" Robin asked without preamble as he stepped into his study and found Killian staring out the window.

"Aye," Killian replied, stifling a groan when he tried to wiggle his fingers and a sharp pain shot up his arm, the pain reminding him of the man who'd caused him to snap, and he gritted out through clenched teeth, "Though I should have done more than break his nose. I should have killed him."

If Robin was surprised over his outburst he didn't show it; he just leaned back in his chair and lit a cheroot before addressing Killian through the upwards swirling smoke, "You need help with something?"

"I need to find out everything you can about Neal," Killian said firmly. "And I mean  _everything_."

"What are you going to do about him?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Even though Killian had expressed the wish to kill the man a moment ago, he didn't want to draw too much attention to the whole affair; he didn't want to hurt Emma's reputation further, didn't want the gossip mill to talk about them even more than they probably already were, since he'd punched Neal while a crowd of witnesses surrounded them.

He'd spoken the truth just moments before; he didn't know yet what he would do about Neal. But he was determined to learn everything there was to learn about the other man, so that he could decide on the best way to eliminate the threat the man was posing to his wife and her son. That was what was most important right now. Emma and Henry's safety. He would  _not_  let himself think about the night before, and the lack of garments Emma had worn to entice him into consummating the marriage. She was safe with him. He would not touch her without her truly wanting it.

* * *

Emma found him in the study with an open book in his uninjured hand, the injured hand lying atop the back of the settee, the white of the bandage almost blinding against the dark upholstery. He hadn't noticed her yet, and she let herself take him in for a few moments before announcing her presence.

His hair looked disheveled, as if he had threaded his fingers through it a few times, his neck cloth was nowhere to be seen, his vest was unbuttoned and the first buttons of his shirt were open too, revealing a fine mat of his dark chest hair; his shirt was rolled up to above his elbows, his boots standing beside the settee, his stocking feet thrown up on the cushions.

He looked completely relaxed and lost in his own world, and a sense of longing settled in her stomach as Emma watched him. The wish to just curl up against him suddenly constricted her chest, the wish to open her heart to him, and tell him everything. About what Neal did to her, about not being able to really read and write, about how afraid she still was that Neal might lash out at them and destroy her son's future.

Emma hardly knew the man, but he'd touched something deep inside of her with his gesture the day before, and now she actually wanted to know more about the man himself, wanted to really get to know her husband, though she wasn't certain how to achieve that goal. But for now she needed to show him her gratitude over his selfless gesture, everything else could wait.

Walking into the room, she cleared her throat to draw attention to herself, and Killian looked up startled, apparently not expecting anyone to disturb his reading, but the moment his eyes met hers his expression softened.

"Milady." He sprang up from the settee, and greeted her with a curt bow, before he cocked one eyebrow in question. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She stepped towards him, her fingers shaking slightly as she reached for the bandage wound around his hand, letting her fingers brush over it.

"I know what happened," Emma breathed, staring at the splinters around his finger and avoiding his eyes, her voice barely above a whisper as she added, "Thank you."

"He deserved much more than I gave him," Killian replied softly, his right hand suddenly appearing in her line of vision as he put his forefinger under her chin and pulled it up until she locked eyes with him, his voice turning even more tender as he asked, "He hurt you, didn't he?"

"He …" Emma's voice shook slightly, a lump forming in her throat as he gazed down at her, his fingers still holding her chin in place, but the touch wasn't threatening; she could hardly feel his finger against her skin. "Only the last time. The first times ..." She gulped hard, her hands wandering up his chest, one curling in the fabric directly above his heart. "It wasn't that bad, and not for that long. Only until ..."

"Henry was conceived," Killian finished her sentence softly, and his hand let go off her chin, his fingers closing over the hand lying over his heart.

"Yes."

She'd only been so close to him once, on their wedding day, when he'd kissed her. She smelled the starch of his shirt, and something musky, something uniquely him. Her hand prickled as she lifted it to cradle his face, a strange sensation traveling through her body as she skimmed her fingers over his bristled cheek, and then she met his gaze again, and was once more astounded by the blueness of his eyes, the warmth and understanding that was shining in them.

This man was willing to give her so much more than she'd expected of him, and sudden warmth spread through her as his fingers started to rub tenderly over her skin. Without making a conscious decision she got up on her tiptoes and closed her eyes, brushing her lips over his mouth for a chaste kiss, ending it the moment she felt his tongue brush against her bottom lip in a silent question.

"I … I need some time," Emma whispered with a trembling voice, letting her hand drop down from his face. "Just a few weeks to adjust to … everything. "

"Of course." His fingers loosened around hers, a last brush of his thumb and then the warmth of his hand was gone, leaving her with a feeling of deep deprivation. "You've nothing to worry about, milady."

"And since we won't ..." she trailed off, stepping back out of his embrace, only now realizing that his bandaged hand had come to rest on the small of her back. She ignored the tingling sensation his lips had left on her mouth, and the burning spot at her back where his hand had been, and forced herself to speak the words that seemed necessary to set him free of any obligation for the time being. "I understand that you have needs, Your Grace. You might want to resume your relationship with your mistress until … until I'm ready."

Emma curtsied swiftly, and rushed out of the study, her cheeks burning bright red and her heart galloping in her chest as she hurried up to the nursery, intent on spending some time with Henry; it was the best way to soothe her frenzied mind.

* * *

Killian didn't know why it'd hurt so much to hear her say the words, why it made him kind of angry that she told him he should go bury his cock in someone else's cunt. Not that she'd used those specific words of course, but her meaning had been clear.

Now he was sitting in a brothel, staring at the almost naked bodies that were practically thrust into his face. He'd been driving to Milah's house first, but couldn't enter. He hadn't wanted to spend time with her, hadn't wanted to fuck her. He was more in the mood of having a common wench; something this brothel had a large selection of.

His grip tightened around the glass in his hand, and with a growl he lifted it to his mouth and downed its contents, slamming it down on the table beside him, wondering for a moment why the force with which he'd slammed it down hadn't shattered it. But then a wave of perfume hit his nostrils, and he turned his head, sending up a lascivious grin to the woman standing before him.

"My, my, my," he drawled, gripping her skirt and pulling her between his open legs. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

The wench fluttered her eyelashes at him, letting out a throaty chuckle as she lowered herself to sit on his leg, her fingers trailing over his cheek and down his neck. With one tug at the front of her dress her breasts were exposed to his gaze, and he grunted in appreciation. Her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, and she pulled his head forward, inviting him to have a taste of her rosy peaks. He latched onto one with vigor, sucking at it hard, burying his teeth in the soft flesh. Letting it pop out of his mouth, he reached for it with his hand, tugging and twirling the swollen peak roughly.

His cock was straining against the flap of his breeches, and Killian contemplated if he shouldn't just ruffle her skirts up and have a quick tumble with her right here and there. Her nimble fingers already worked at his trousers, her palm rubbing over his rigid arousal, and he was already anticipating to glide into her warm sheath as a picture of the creamy swell of Emma's breasts rose up in his mind out of the blue. He sucked in a breath as an image of her standing in her naughty undergarments in the middle of their bedchamber assaulted his brain, and the image of the thatch of locks between her thighs made him even harder and needier. But not for the wench currently sitting in his lap.

"Bloody hell," he cursed, shoving the woman off his lap without much ceremony, ignoring her startled outcry when she almost landed on her ass on the floor.

"Something wrong, Your Grace? You didn't like what Jane has to offer?" The woman who owned the brothel stepped beside him with a frown between her eyes, waving her hand through the room as she continued, "You can always choose another one to your liking."

Killian grunted out a sharp 'No', shoving his cock back into his breeches and closing the flap, well aware that he was still rock hard and needed to take care of that problem soon. But not here. Not with one of these women.

Emma had given him her blessing to fuck anyone he liked, but the problem was Killian didn't want to fuck anyone. He only wanted her. He only wanted his wife.

_How pathetic is that?_  he scoffed inwardly, gritting his teeth as he stepped out into the chilly night. He would end up with shriveled balls because he couldn't take another woman to bed beside his wife, and his wife he couldn't have.

"Lord help me," he growled into the darkness, tilting his head to look up at the night sky, reaching down to adjust his breeches to relieve the pressure against his still aching cock. "I'm a bloody fool."


	7. Chapter 7

Emma stopped in front of the study, taking in a deep breath as she smoothed her hands down her dress. She didn't know what Killian wanted to talk about, and she felt a small ball of dread sinking into her stomach.

A fortnight had passed since she'd kissed him, and she'd hardly seen him since. She'd opted on sleeping in the adjacent bedchamber since she wasn't needed to sleep in bed with her husband if they hadn't had intercourse, but she wondered if he'd taken her up on her offer and had resumed his visits to his mistress, ignoring the ache she felt in her heart. She couldn't be jealous, she had no right to be jealous. She might be his wife, but she couldn't give him yet what she promised to, so it shouldn't hurt that he was probably seeking his pleasures in another woman's bed. It wasn't as if she really wanted him in her bed, she still dreaded to consummate the marriage with him, but nonetheless the thought of him in bed with another woman lodged a shard of pain into her heart.

"Can I help you, Your Grace?"

The butler's voice jerked her out of her reveries, and she shook her head, telling him silently she didn't need his services at the moment, and she waited until the butler disappeared around the corner before she lifted her hand and knocked at the door, stepping in with her heart in her throat when she heard the silent 'Come in'.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Her husband looked up from the documents he'd been perusing, sending her a crooked smile that caused a tingle to run down her spine, her knees suddenly feeling weak – as if they couldn't carry her weight. She didn't know that feeling, and wondered why a smile of his had such an effect on her, as he stood up and gestured to the settee in front of the fireplace.

"Aye, milady. Have a seat, please."

She sat down slowly, watching him walk towards her, her fingers trembling slightly as he took a seat beside her and turned around to face her.

"It's about Henry."

Her heart plummeted into her stomach, her chest constricting painfully as she imagined what might have happened to her son.

"Did something happen to him?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I just saw him an hour ago, and he was fine. "

"No, the lad is alright," her husband assured her immediately, reaching for her hand and closing his fingers around it, the warmth of his hand and his words soothing her frightened mind in an instant. "That's not why I asked you here."

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

"I think he should have a governess. He might be a little too young for a tutor, but he is a smart child and already bombards everyone in his reach with questions."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. If he bothers you I can ..."

"Killian."

"Pardon me?" Emma stared at their intertwined hands, following the movement of his thumb over the back of her hand with her eyes, wondering how such a soft touch could make her whole body relax.

"My name is Killian," he replied softly, and the tender tone in his voice made her look up to meet his gaze, her heart fluttering in her chest as she was greeted by a lopsided smirk on his handsome face. "I think it's time that we call each other by our given names, shall we?"

"If you wish, Your ..." His fingers squeezed her hand gently, one eyebrow shooting up as his smile broadened, and a soft chuckle slipped over her lips as she inclined her head and called him by his given name, "Killian."

"That's much better … Emma."

His mouth was still tilted up into a lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement and suddenly she felt the urge to lean forward and press her lips against the corner of his mouth, wanted to feel his lips move against hers. But before she could act upon the sudden need, he started to speak again, "So what do you think? Should I hire a governess for Henry?"

It took her a few seconds to find her voice, her heart warming as she realized how much he cared about her son if he was giving thought to his education, and her voice only quivered slightly as she said, "That's an excellent idea. Thank you … Killian."

* * *

The fire was burning low in the fireplace and Emma reached for the candelabra standing beside her on the table, shifting it so that the light of the candles illuminated the book in her hand better. It was an atlas, one of the few books she could enjoy since it didn't involve much reading.

She'd started to flip through some books after she'd watched Henry with his governess, her son eager to learn everything Mrs. Hawthorn could teach him, and she'd felt tears of gratitude towards her husband prick the back of her eyes when she'd seen how much Henry was enjoying his lessons.

Somehow seeing her son learn how to read and write had made her wallow in self-pity for just a moment before she'd chided herself. She could always do something against it; after all her husband seemed to be a very nice man, and maybe he wouldn't be opposed to Emma having lessons of her own.

A smile crept onto her face as she remembered this morning when she'd come down to breakfast and found her husband bent over a paper Henry was showing him, her son beaming with pride that he was able to write Killian's name, and a jolt had run through her when Killian looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, his mouth curling up into one of those lopsided smirks that always managed to make her mind stumble. She was still lost in thoughts about her husband when the door opened with a creak and her husband stepped into the room.

"Oh, excuse me. I didn't know you were in here. I don't want to disturb you, I just ..."

"Stay!" she said firmly before he could disappear again. "I wanted to go to bed soon anyways."

"You don't have to leave on my account, Emma."

She watched him a few seconds to see if he meant it, and the warm smile he sent her way convinced her that he really didn't mind, so she curled up on the settee again and turned the page. She heard him walk around, the clink of glass as he poured himself a drink before silence settled over the room again. After a few minutes Emma got curious about what her husband was doing, and she looked up from the book in her lap, finding him standing at the fireplace and staring into the flames. Something about his posture made her stand up from the settee immediately and join him.

"Something wrong, Killian?"

She stepped beside him, laying one hand on his forearm, feeling the need to soothe his obvious worries – whatever they might be.

"I ..." She felt him shiver under her touch, her heart aching as his eyes met hers and she saw bottomless pain in them. "I miss my brother. Especially today. He died three years ago."

Somehow she thought telling him she was sorry wouldn't be enough, so she closed her fingers around his arm and lifted it up, slipping under it and wrapping her arms around his waist. She felt him hesitate only for a brief moment before his arm came to rest on her shoulder, and then his grip tightened as he pulled her even closer.

"Tell me about him," she whispered against his chest, hoping talking about his brother might help.

"He was the typical big brother," Killian spoke softly, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "Always teasing me, but also very protective. My childhood would have been very lonely without him. He was always there when I needed him. He was ten years older than I and ..."

His broken voice made a lump form in her throat, and she had to gulp hard before she could speak again. "You adored him."

"Aye, I did. Since our mother died in childbirth when I was only two, and our father was too occupied with his obligations to care about what his sons might need despite food and lodgings … it was Liam who was there when I scraped my knee, or fell from a horse. It was he who taught me how to fight like a gentleman, it was he who encouraged me to join the navy. He was the best brother one can wish for and … I never told him how much I loved him."

"I'm sure he knew."

Emma didn't know how long they kept standing there, embracing each other, but she felt safe in his arms, her heart swelling with emotions, knowing that she could give him the comfort he needed right now. She didn't want to leave the warmth of his embrace, but eventually they had to move, and she had to step out of his embrace.

"You should go to bed," he breathed, his knuckles brushing over her cheek. "I'll walk you to your room."

They didn't say anything on their way up the stairs, and when he opened the door to her room, she stepped inside and turned around to him, not wanting him to just leave yet.

"Goodnight, Emma," he spoke before she could say something, and then his lips ghosted over her cheek. "And thank you for listening."

"You're welcome."

The door closed behind him, and it took Emma a few seconds to name the feeling that swept over her. She was disappointed. For one moment she'd wished he would stay with her and she could fall asleep in his arms.

* * *

Killian stared down at the letter in his hand, wondering if this was all just a bad dream, because he couldn't believe what he'd just read. His eyes flickered back to the words, as if reading them over and over again would change their meaning.

Neal Gold was Milah's son; Milah had given birth to him after having an affair with Richard Gold in Ireland, probably hoping he would marry her and take her with him to London, what he obviously hadn't done.

The truth was like a punch in the stomach, leaving him slightly dazed and thankful that he hadn't visited her after he'd married Emma. Milah's connection to Neal was definitely complicating things, because he knew that she would fight for her son's heritage, no matter what. She was a very proud woman, and she loved living in splendor. He might not have giving it much thought before, but he wondered now if the late Earl of Manton had financed her until now. She seemed to live in more splendor than she could afford, so if she had gotten money from the late Earl she might conspire with her son to keep it flowing.

He was still deep in thought when the door suddenly burst opened, startling him and he pushed the letter under a stack of papers as Henry rushed towards him.

"Killy, Killy!" Henry stumbled against his chair, thrusting a sheet of paper under his nose. "Look what I made for you."

Welcoming the distraction, he pulled Henry in his lap before looking at the drawing the lad made for him. Of course it was no master piece; crude stick figures and something he thought was supposed to be a horse, but the present warmed his heart, and he listened attentively to the lad's babbling as he told him about what his governess was teaching him, jumping from topic to topic so fast that Killian could hardly follow. But apparently talking so much had exhausted the lad, and he suddenly stopped talking and snuggled against him, being asleep in a blink of an eye.

Killian shifted carefully to not wake the boy until he could stand up with him in his arms and carry him over to the settee, lying him down tenderly. He brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, smiling softly when Henry curled up into himself without waking up. He was still looking down at the boy when the door burst open again, and Emma rushed in.

"Have you seen Henry?" she asked with a frantic voice. "I can't find him anywhere."

"Sorry, love." Killian stepped aside so that she could see Henry lying on the settee. "I should have let you know that the lad is with me."

"Thank God," she whispered, hurrying over and leaning over the boy, probably to make sure that he was alright.

She sat down beside Henry and maneuvered carefully until the lad's head was in her lap, a soft smile playing over her lips as she skimmed her fingers over his hair, humming a lullaby under her breath, and Killian walked back to his chair behind his desk, his eyes coming back to his wife and her son as he settled into the leather.

Watching Emma with her son conjured up a yearning he'd never felt before. He wanted to have a family of his own, and he wanted it with Emma. He leaned back in his chair, feeling slightly blindsided by the realization. He didn't know when it had happened; the feeling had apparently snuck up on him without him noticing it. But looking at his wife now he realized that he'd fallen in love with her, and her son. They'd healed the wound the loss of his brother had left in his heart, and he sent a silent prayer up heavenwards, thanking whoever was listening for sending Emma to his doorsteps in the first place.

Killian knew that she didn't love him, knew that her scars might never heal, but he was determined to help her in any way he could, and maybe – some day – she'd be able to let him in her bed and her heart.

"Killy?" Henry's voice snapped him back into the presence, and he smiled as he looked at the lad, his eyes still heavy from sleep.

"Yes, Henry?"

"When can I go riding?"

He chuckled and pushed himself up from the chair, wandering over to the settee, contemplating when it would be possible to give Henry his first riding lesson as a sudden idea struck him.

"Tell you what … how about we go to my estate for a while? My stable master will be happy to teach you."

"Yes!" Henry cried, throwing himself into Killian's arms for a moment before scrambling to be released back to the ground, and off he was through the door, stomping up to his room.

"Aehm," Killian looked slightly baffled to Emma for an explanation to Henry's sudden departure.

"I guess he is already starting to pack."

"Ah, I see."

"Thank you." Her eyes softened as she smiled at him, but then her face fell and a furrow appeared between her brows. "Don't you have to be here in London for Parliament?"

"The estate isn't that far away," Killian replied, determined to spend some time away from the Londoner ton and the wrath of his former mistress and her son, and maybe being in the country would also bring Emma and him closer together. "I'll manage."

* * *

"Emma?" Killian's voice sounded from the adjacent room, and she couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"In here, Killian."

She turned to the door the moment he stepped through it with a small parcel in his hands.

"I see you're already ready to go?" he asked, gesturing towards the open and already full trunks on the floor.

"Yes, I am."

He grinned at her then, a grin that melted her heart, and held out the package to her.

"I have something for you."

"What is it?" Emma asked as she started to unpack it carefully.

"A book from a new author – a woman," Killian told her, a slight blush on his cheek as he lifted his hand and scratched behind his ear. "Her name is Jane Austen, and I was told that women love her books, so I thought you might enjoy it, too. It's called Pride and Prejudice. See?"

Emma looked down at the book in her hands, deciphering the two words with some difficulty, a lump forming in her throat as she met her husband's gaze. "Thank you, Killian."

"Maybe you can start reading it on the carriage ride after Henry has fallen asleep," he told her with an eager expression on his face that reminded her of Henry when he was excited about something.

"You won't come with us?"

"I need to stay a few days longer, but I'll join you as soon as possible." He leaned forward and pressed his lips on her cheeks for a brief kiss. "Have a nice trip, Emma."

Emma could hold it together until he'd left the room before she slumped down on the bed and the tears started to fall. It was such a considerate present, one that was meant to bring her pleasure. But Killian had no idea that she wasn't able to enjoy it.

Pressing the book against her chest, she bit her tongue to keep herself from weeping out loud. She might not be able to read it, but it was the first real present she'd ever received - one where the giver had put actual thought into what she might like.

Her vision was still blurry when she laid the book into her lap, her fingers skimming over the letters on the front, her heart aching with the need to open it and read it. She wanted to follow the story, wanted to submerge into another universe, like she'd seen Killian do from time to time.

But there was only one way she could achieve that goal – she needed to finally learn how to read properly. Maybe she could join Henry in his lessons with his governess – in the country it might actually be possible. Or maybe it was time to tell her husband about her problem, and ask him for help. So far he'd surprised her on a constant basis, showed her time and time again that she could trust him, that he cared about her and her son's wellbeing, so maybe it was time to trust him with another secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I'm taking some creative liberty with the books, plays, sonnets, poems etc. I mention in this story. Though they've all been published in the 19th century or earlier, they might not have been well known at the time in which this story is set (mid 19th century), or not yet published, or the identity of the author was not known at that time.**  
> 
> **For example – in the case of Jane Austen (1775-1817) – Pride and Prejudice wasn't her first published novel, and her name was never attached to any of her published novels during her lifetime. On the title page of P &P it was only mentioned that it has been written by the author of 'Sense and Sensibility' (her first published novel), which was published in 1811 under the pseudonym 'By A Lady'. She started to write the first draft of P&P already back in 1796 and gave it the title 'First Impressions', revising it 1812 and publishing it under the title 'Pride and Prejudice' in 1813.** 
> 
> **P &P is just my personal favorite, so I used that novel for my story.**


	8. Chapter 8

"I'll arrange surveillance as soon as possible. I can assure you, his every step will be watched."

"You're being a true friend, Locksley." Killian tilted his glass towards his friend, grateful for having someone he could count on. "With the suddenness of this marriage and all the ensuing excitement, my wife and I have forgotten to make certain that Neal won't pick Henry's heritage apart. He has no way of getting a hold on the money, but Neal still lives in the late Earl's mansion, and I need to keep an eye on him from now on. I assume Emma wants to keep the house for Henry, until he comes of age and can decide for himself what he wants to do with it."

"What about your mistress?" Robin asked, leaning back in his chair, sipping at his scotch. "Since we found out she is Neal's mother, we should probably watch her, too."

"We probably should."

"You're still paying her bills?"

"Yes, and I will keep paying them to keep up appearances." Killian replied. "I don't want her to get suspicious in any way. As long as I pay her bills she expects me to return to her bed at some point."

"You don't plan on returning? You want to stay faithful to your wife?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"It does, and it doesn't."

"Can you get any more cryptic?"

"You want me to explain it to you?"

"By all means."

"When I met you, you had a stick up your arse," Robin started, chuckling softly when Killian stiffened but his friend just continued undeterred, "All about good form and such. But you've loosened up; the life on sea tends to do that to all officers. Everyone needs to release pressure from time to time, and if you don't have a wife at home you resort to take your pleasures with a wench, and there is nothing wrong with that."

"Your point?" Killian questioned, shifting in his chair, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable with the topic of the conversation.

"My point is … as long as your brother was still alive you would have felt obliged to stay true to a certain code, but after Liam died you've changed."

"I know," Killian said, adding silently in his head 'And it wasn't a change for the better'.

"I'm not condemning you here, Jones. You know that. It was a hard time for you." Killian nodded sharply, not feeling affronted by Robin's words, but feeling ashamed by his own actions. "But you did adopt a sharp edge. Treating women as objects and not people." Killian almost winced, remembering the last time he'd been in a brothel, and how he'd treated the woman who wanted to give him pleasure. He'd been angry, but that wasn't an excuse, and he knew it. "You did slow down as you took Milah as your mistress though."

Because at some point he'd taken a good look at himself, and had felt disgusted with what he'd been seeing. The wenches he'd chosen had gotten younger and younger, and he'd realized that taking a mistress might pull him back from the edge he'd been drifting towards.

Thinking about his former mistress brought another thought to the surface, "Milah must have been awfully young when she conceived Neal."

"Well, it's not as if you've ever been bothered by the age of your bed partners when you were out of control. It didn't matter to you if they were ten years younger than you, or ten years older. As long as they could give you what you wanted."

Killian didn't want to talk about his dark days any longer, and he took a sip of his scotch as he pondered over Milah's age. "Still, if Neal is four-and-twenty and Milah is around eight-and-thirty ..."

"When do women don't lie about their age?"

"True. She might be older than she let people to believe." Killian said, the grip of his fingers around the glass tightening as he came to a decision. "I need your help again, Robin."

"Find out everything about Milah?"

"Aye," Killian affirmed, taking another gulp of his scotch to get rid of the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "For example … how she came in contact with the late Earl of Manton all those years ago, how she left Ireland and came to London. If her son knows she is his mother."

"I will ask my contact to retrieve all the information he can get a hand on."

"Thank you, Locksley."

"You're welcome."

Silence descended on the room then, the only sound Robin's drags on his cherrot, and Killian's thoughts drifted back to Emma as he stared down into the amber liquid of his scotch, the urge to share his so called secret with his best friend suddenly overwhelming.

"Robin?" Killian looked up, meeting his friend's gaze. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"Since it happened to me twice … I do," Robin replied, taking another drag from his cheroot and tipping the ash away before asking, "You talking about your wife?"

"I think I'm in love with her, though I hardly know her," Killian murmured, still wondering if his feelings were true since it happened so fast. "We've not even been married a month."

"I wanted Marian from the moment I saw her, and I fell in love with her after spending only a few hours with her. Falling in love has nothing to do with the time you spent with a person, Killian."

"What if she won't love me back?" Killian asked, hating the shaky, uncertain tone of his voice.

"Love is always a risk, mate. But it's worth it."

* * *

When they'd arrived the previous evening Emma had been so tired from the carriage ride that she'd hardly taken in much of her surroundings, just that the house seemed to be enormous in its proportion. Reaching her chambers had taken a dizzying amount of turns and stairs, and the moment her head hit the pillow she was fast asleep.

But she woke up bright and early the next morning, eager to get accustomed with her new surroundings. She got lost a few times as she tried to find her way downstairs, but in the end she managed to find her way to the kitchen, finding an elderly woman sitting at the table and murmuring to herself about the amount of pigeons they might need for dinner.

Emma cleared her throat, and the woman looked up, her face lightening up with a genuine smile as she sprang up from her chair and rushed over to Emma, startling her as the woman grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, the unknown familiarity rendering her speechless.

"Good morning, Your Grace. I hope you slept well."

"I did," Emma replied, pulling her hand out of the other woman's grasp while she was looking around, wondering not for the first time where her son was, and she decided to ask the other woman if she knew about Henry's whereabouts. "Have you seen my son?

"He is out in the stables," the woman told her immediately, adding hastily, "But you don't have to worry about his safety. My husband, David, is with him."

The woman ushered her to a chair and pushed her down, telling Emma she would make her a quick breakfast. Emma's head started to spin as she watched the woman flit around in the kitchen as she prepared her breakfast, and when the woman set a plate in front of her Emma realized she didn't even know her name.

"I'm sorry to have to ask, but … I don't recall your name?"

"Nothing there to apologize for, Your Grace. I should have known that Killian would forget to tell you about my husband and I," she said, shaking her head and letting out a tsking sound. "Men."

"I don't understand," Emma murmured, completely confused now.

The woman was calling Killian by his given name; something that just wasn't done. Killian was a duke after all, and the woman standing in front of her was only a servant.

"I've been born a lady, raised to marry a duke or an earl. But I fell in love with a stable master, and was shunned by my family," the woman started to explain, her words clearing up part of Emma's confusion. "Killian and Liam's father had already been deceased, and Liam never cared about the inappropriateness of our marriage. He might have put up a fight at first when I told him I wanted to earn my keep, but in the end he agreed to take me on as his housekeeper while David was the master of his stables. It's a rougher life than I've been accustomed to, but I've never been content with the constrictions of my genteel upbringing, and here I can be with the love of my life." A smile pulled the woman's lips up as she talked about her husband, and Emma felt a bout of jealousy sweep over her. "But enough with my life story … I'm sure you want to take a look at the menu of the week, and make yourself accustomed with this household. I have the menu right here for your perusal, Your Grace."

A paper was pushed towards her, and Emma stared down at it, the letters suddenly blurring in front of her eyes.

"What is wrong, milady?"

"I can't read it," Emma whispered, her voice choked up by unshed tears.

"Is my penmanship that bad?" the housekeeper asked. "I can always read it to you, and you can give me your opinion on it."

"It's not your penmanship," Emma breathed, not knowing why she felt safe trusting this woman with her secret without knowing much about her. But she did. "I can't read. At all."

"Oh my dear." Her hand was squeezed again, the tone of the housekeeper's voice gentling when she asked, "How about I help you learn how to?"

"You would do that?"

Emma looked up at the other woman, only finding understanding in her gaze, her throat closing up even more.

"Of course. We can start right this afternoon."

"Thank you," Emma breathed, feeling a kinship to this woman she'd just met. "And when we are alone … I would like you to call me Emma."

"Of course. But only if you call me Mary Margaret."

* * *

Killian was feeling the tiredness clear down to his bones; every muscle was aching, every fiber of his being was demanding of him to lay down and just succumb to sleep. The last two weeks had been exhausting, but he'd finally managed to get everything in order so that he could follow his wife to the country. Maybe he should have opted to take his carriage and not ride the whole way, but riding was much quicker, and he just wanted to be away from the town as fast as possible, to forget about everything for a few precious days.

And he needed to see Emma.

His knees buckled when he descended from his horse, his fingers feeling stiff from holding the reins for too long, but he still took the time to brush his hand down Devil's nose, murmuring his thanks into the stallions' ear for bringing him to his estate this fast.

A yell made Killian almost jump and Devil jerked his head back, but Killian kept a tight grip on the horse's halter until the groom could take over the reins, and he'd just turned around when a whirlwind raced over the yard and barreled into him, shouting his name at the top of his lungs.

"Hello to you too, lad," Killian said, and he leaned down to pull Henry into his arms and lift him up, ignoring his fatigue and settling him on his hip.

"Killy, I saw all the horses, and David says I can ride them all as soon as the weather is good. Will you be there too then?"

"Of course I will," Killian assured the boy, a grin tugging the corner of his mouth upwards.

Henry kept talking without really taking a breath as Killian carried him to the house, and he was grateful when the governess stepped into the hall and took Henry from him. The boy was talking so fast that Killian could hardly follow him, and after assuring the lad that he would go to the stables with him on the morrow Henry walked upstairs with Mrs. Hawthorne and Killian leaned back against the wall to take in a deep breath before pushing himself into motion again, and forcing his tired muscles to function at least as long as it took him to find Emma.

* * *

Emma was furrowing her brows, having a hard time with deciphering the next sentence. Mary Margaret had told her that she needed to be patient, that she couldn't expect to read with ease after only two weeks, but Emma didn't have that patience, pushing herself and working on her reading whenever she found time. But it was still hard, and she felt a headache brewing, her temples starting to throb, and with a sigh she let the book drop into her lap.

The opening of the door was a welcome distraction, the sight of her husband walking into the room making her heart skip a beat.

"Killian, you're here."

He greeted her with an exaggerated bow, a smile playing over his lips when his eyes fell on the book in her lap.

"I see you're reading the book. How is it?"

"I can't tell yet. I've only read a few pages." A furrow appeared between his brows as he clearly wondered why she hadn't read more in the last two weeks, and she added hastily, "I … I couldn't read it before."

"What do you mean, love?"

The unexpected endearment sent a fuzzy feeling through her heart, and the warmth of his gaze made it easier to confess her weakness to her husband. "I couldn't read at all before your housekeeper taught me."

Emma didn't know what reaction she'd expected, but Killian didn't say a word at first. Just watching her for a few moments before he stepped closer and sat down beside her, turning on the settee so that he could face her.

"So what do you say, Emma?" he said, his head tilting to the side and a mischievous grin flitting over his mouth. "Should we read it together?"

"You want to read the book with me?" Emma asked her husband, searching his face for any sign that he might be jesting, but finding none.

"Aye," Killian replied, the look in his eyes touching something deep inside of her. "It'd be my pleasure."

A foreign feeling swept through Emma's body, and her hand was shaking slightly when she held the book out to him. As he took it out of her hand his fingers brushed hers, and a jolt ran down her spine, making a blush rise to her cheeks. But Killian was occupied with opening the book, asking where she'd stopped reading, and she pointed it out to him before settling back into the cushions.

Killian cleared his throat once, throwing her a lopsided smirk before his eyes went back to the book and he started to read, "Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He had always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring his wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was paid she had no knowledge of it."

* * *

Neal was seething, throwing his hat on the desk in the study, huffing out an annoyed breath as he let himself fall into the chair. The monthly allowance his father had left him with just wasn't enough, and since his father's widow had had the audacity to go and marry a duke and take away his leverage over her, he couldn't think of another way to get his hands on Henry's money. Something he wanted desperately, not to mention that he had looked forward to having a woman at hand without having to pay for her services. Emma might have been frigid, but at least he could have fucked her whenever he felt the need to. Another thing she'd taken away from him. He was the father of her son, and she should have had welcomed him in her bedchamber with open arms and wide spread legs.

Neal had pictured an easy life after his father died, expected to have unrestricted access to the money, and to Emma's body. He didn't expect the woman to defy him, and ruin all his plans. But she would pay for it. She and her obnoxious husband. He didn't know how he'd make them pay yet, but he was determined to find a way to get to Emma. And the money.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and he barked a harsh 'Come in', not in the least happy about the intrusion.

"You have a visitor, Sir," the butler told him, oblivious to his dark mood, presenting Neal the silver tablet with the card on it.

He didn't recognize the name on the card, but he decided to at least take a look at the visitor. Maybe she would turn out to be open to lifting her skirts and spread her legs for him. Though when the woman stepped into the room he wrinkled his nose; she was way too old for his taste.

"We need to talk," the strange woman said, and Neal already wanted to tell the butler to remove this unwanted guest from the mansion, but her next words made him reconsider that notion, "It's about the Duke and Duchess of Hillsborough."

Leaning back in his chair, he folded his hands over his stomach and eyed the woman more closely, noticing her proud posture and the obvious quality of her clothes. He waved the butler out, waiting for the door to click shut before he faced his visitor again, and nodded his head towards her, "I'm listening."


	9. Chapter 9

Emma could still feel the pang of disappointment that had gripped her stomach when Killian had accompanied her to her bedchamber last night and told her goodnight at her door. She'd never really thought about where he would be sleeping when he finally arrived, and she'd realized that part of her had held out hope they might spend the nights in the same bed again. She still didn't feel ready to give her body to him, but she missed having him by her side at night.

"You should join them in their fun, Emma."

Emma startled when Mary Margaret stepped beside her, the older woman greeting her with a warm smile.

"I don't know," Emma replied, her eyes coming back to the men standing beside the paddock.

It was an exceptionally warm day for late autumn, and Emma wanted to be with them, wanted to spend time with Killian, her heart aching with longing for his presence, longing for his smile, longing for his laughter and that twinkle in his eyes that always warmed her from head to toe.

"Let me show you something," Mary Margaret interrupted her thoughts, a mischievous grin on her face as she led Emma out of the kitchen. "I have just the right thing for you."

* * *

"You think you can handle it?" David asked, gesturing towards the mare in the paddock who was snorting and stomping, still agitated after a bee had stung her.

"Aye," Killian replied, throwing his stable master a cheeky grin. "I can handle it."

"Killy, what are you doing?" Henry inquired, sending a frightened gaze to the mare.

"Just watch, Henry," David told the lad, throwing an arm over his shoulder and drawing him close as Killian slipped into the paddock. "He is a horse whisperer."

"He is over exaggerating, Henry," Killian said as he turned towards the lad and winked. "Let's just say I have a hand with horses."

He turned back to the mare again, holding out his hands as he spoke softly, "Shhhh, mo deas. No one is gonna hurt you."

The endearment had rolled over his tongue without conscious thought, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he remembered Liam using it whenever he'd handled a shy horse. Killian had been too young to remember anything about her mother, but Liam had told him stories about how her mother tended to switch over to Irish when she was upset, and apparently the horses liked the drawl of the Irish brogue, so Killian had started to use it, too.

But this wasn't the time to reminisce, and he concentrated on the horse in front of him again, the mare stomping with her feet and throwing her head back, letting out a low whinny when he walked slowly towards her. She let him come near, but she was clearly agitated and he wrapped his arms slowly around her neck and leaned his forehead against her, mumbling soothing nonsense into her ear until she stopped shifting and lowered her head, nudging his shoulder.

"See," he said, stepping back to scratch the mare between her ears. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Wow," Henry whispered when Killian walked toward him and the horse followed his every step. "You have to teach me that."

Killian grinned down at the boy as he stepped out of the paddock again, and ruffled his hair. "One thing at a time, Henry. You need to learn how to ride first." And today was as good a day as any. "How about we're going on a short ride today?"

"Yeah," Henry cried out, throwing himself at Killian's legs. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

* * *

Wearing men clothes was a completely strange sensation, and Emma felt her heart beat frantically in her chest as she stepped out of the house and walked over to where the men and her son were gathered. David was deep in conversation with Henry, showing him how to saddle a horse and her son looked up at him with pure adoration in his gaze, making her heart squeeze in her chest. But when her eyes met Killian's a whole other feeling rushed through her body, and her fingers and toes started to tingle when his mouth curled up into a lopsided smirk as he walked up to her.

"I like those breeches, Your Grace," he told her in a low voice that shot a shiver down her spine.

"And I like yours."

The moment the words were out of her mouth a blush rose to her cheeks, and she averted her gaze to the ground. He might look insanely handsome in those tight-cut breeches and a shirt that revealed quite a few inches of his chest, but a lady never talked like that. Ever.

A wave of embarrassment swept over her, and she was about to turn around and flee when a finger appeared in her line of vision, and Killian pulled her chin up until her eyes met his. "Are you flirting with me, milady?"

His eyes sparkled with amusement, and his mouth twitched with the effort to keep himself from smiling, and suddenly she didn't feel embarrassed anymore.

"Maybe?" she replied, smiling broadly when he laughed out loud.

"Mommy, look," Henry shouted, and Emma looked at her son, sitting on a horse in front of David. "I'm riding a horse."

"You should come with us, love," Killian said, gesturing towards the stables. "I can saddle a horse for you."

"Maybe another time," she replied. "You just go ahead without me."

Killian eyed her for a few moments before shrugging his shoulders. He walked towards his already saddled horse and mounted it with practiced ease. Tightening his legs around the horse, it started to walk towards Emma, and she looked up at Killian in question as he stopped beside her, but he just grinned down at her and stretched out his hand. "Come on, Emma. You can ride with me."

Before she could over think it she slipped her hand in his, and a moment later she was sitting in the saddle with him, his strong arms enveloping her as he reached for the reins.

"Relax," he whispered in her ear. "You're safe with me."

She heeded his advice and relaxed into him; his scent was wafting around her, a mixture of musk and sweat and horse, and she felt the muscles of his legs against hers as he shifted behind her. She didn't know how to ride, something else she needed to tell him, but he was definitely a natural, directing the horse only with his legs while talking to Henry, and her son's face beamed with happiness when David and Killian urged their horses into a trot. But her hands were reaching for Killian's arms at first, her fingers digging into his flesh as a wave of fear swept through her. But then he shifted behind her and his mouth brushed over her ear, his voice barely audible over the rush of the wind as he whispered, "Relax. I won't let you fall."

The ride was a pure joy after she let go of her fear, and she smiled and laughed as David entertained them with stories about Liam and Killian when they were lads and up to no good all the time. But she was always aware of the closeness of Killian's body behind her and the reactions of her body to this close contact, feeling warm and secure in his arms.

When they rode back into the yard an hour later, she still felt exhilarated, letting out a chuckle when Henry bolted for the house the moment David lifted him off the horse, her son almost falling over his own feet in his rush to get to the cookies David had promised Mary Margaret had cooked.

Killian's low laughter rumbled in her ear, and then he shifted and descended, holding up his arms to help her down. He was holding her closely as her feet hit the ground, his face only inches from hers, and maybe it was the fresh air, or maybe it were the clothes she was wearing, but she felt daring and even though her heart threatened to beat out of her chest she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against her husband's.

A low growl rumbled out of his throat, and his arms tightened around her as he tilted his head. She felt the tenseness of his muscles under her fingers as she wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair, a burst of longing sweeping through her as the tip of his tongue brushed over her bottom lip.

She'd only been truly kissed once before, and she opened her lips in anticipation, memories of their wedding day flickering through her mind. Killian accepted her silent invitation without a moment of hesitation and his tongue touched hers, and though he had kissed her like that before Emma wasn't prepared for the sensations that flooded her body as he tangled his tongue with hers. Her whole body was warming, every fiber of her being seemed to tingle as his kiss turned more urgent, and she kissed him back with the same ferocity, her body taking over control and leaving her a wanton mess.

And then the horse shifted behind them and snorted loudly, nudging her nose into Emma's back and breaking the kiss. Her eyes snapped to his as he stepped back, and the desire she saw in them shot another wave of heat through her body.

"I like that, too," he told her in a hoarse voice, and his hands lifted to cup her face, his lips brushing over hers once again in a brief kiss before he stepped back and reached for the horse's reins. "Come on, you little rascal. Let's get you brushed down."

Emma skimmed her fingers over her mouth, her lips still tingling with the sensations of the kiss, and she watched her husband walk the horse towards the stables, a foreign need tugging at her as her eyes followed him until he disappeared through the doors.

She might not have felt ready to share her body with him this morning, but after being so close to him during the ride she couldn't deny that she wanted to get even closer, and maybe she would ask him later if he wanted to spend the night in her bed.

Maybe it was time for her to face her demons again.

* * *

Her heart was fluttering in her chest as they were standing in front of the door to her bedchamber, and Killian already turned around to leave her for the night when she stopped him by laying her hand on his arm.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered, avoiding to look Killian directly in the eyes.

He didn't say a word until she looked up at him again, and even then he just studied her intently for a long time before he nodded and stepped into the room. Her hands were trembling when she closed the door behind her, but she walked towards him with determined steps, turning her back and lifting her hair. She needed help to get out of the gown she'd changed into for dinner, and tilting her head forward she asked in a low voice, "Can you help me with the laces?"

He helped her out of her garments until she was standing in only her chemise before him, and the cool air of the room brushing under the fabric and over her naked thighs made her shiver.

"Let's get you warm," he murmured, his fingers skimming over her shoulder, making her shiver even more.

Stepping around her, he reached for her hand and closed his fingers around hers, pulling her gently towards the bed and helping her to lay down. She averted her gaze as he slipped out of his breeches and shirt, her heart slamming against her ribcage as she saw his obvious arousal straining against the fabric of his drawers before she shifted her gaze back to the pillow in front of her. The mattress shifted under his weight as he joined her a moment later, his head coming closer and closer until his lips brushed over hers while his fingers started to skim a trail down her neck, and suddenly his body hovering over hers was threatening to suffocate her, her body going rigid when his palm grazed one of her nipples and she let out a sharp gasp.

Killian pulled back immediately, giving her the space she needed to bolt out of the bed, and she rushed over to the fire place, staring into the glowing ashes while wringing her hands in agitation.

"Emma?" his soft voice came from behind, and she gulped hard, trying to put a lid on the fear still gripping her body tightly. "Are you all right, love?"

Emma knew she needed to talk to him and forced herself to face him. When she turned around he was still lying on the bed, propped up on one elbow, and she could see it in his eyes that he wanted to comfort her, but apparently he sensed that she needed space and stayed where he was, his eyes steady on her as she tried to calm down her wildly beating heart and the cold shivers that still raced over her body.

"I … I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. She wanted to be with him, but her past was haunting her and was making it impossible for her to enjoy being touched by him intimately. "I want to … I ..."

"We'll just take it one step at a time, Emma," he said softly, and a lump formed in her throat, his gentleness and understanding still something she wasn't used to. "For now … will you let me hold you."

He opened his arms, and she didn't hesitate; she was so grateful that he always knew exactly what to do to make her feel comfortable with him. His arm came to rest around her shoulders as she joined him, and he pulled her into his chest while gathering the sheet to cover them both, and Emma closed her eyes, listening to his heart beat under her ear until she fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Remember the rating! :-)**

What the strange woman had told him had been quite a shock. Neal had never expected to meet his mother one day, and at first he hadn't believed what the woman was telling him. But when he'd looked at her closer he had to admit he saw the resemblance to his own face in the features of the woman standing before him. She had sent him away to his father when he was two and he didn't have any memories of her, but somehow he couldn't think of a reason why she would lie to him about this. Though he wasn't willing to forgive her for leaving him, but bygones should be bygones, since she obviously had a lot of intimate knowledge about the duke; knowledge they'd use to get rid of him once and for all.

Neal felt a rush of elation wash over him, only thinking about eliminating the inconvenience the duke was posing. They might need some time to plan everything - after all they didn't want their attempt to kill the duke fail - but it was only a matter of time until he'd have access to the money, and Emma would be back where she belonged. In his bed.

* * *

A smile flickered over Killian's lips as he watched Henry running over the yard towards the house with a small book jammed under his arm, his face red and his eyes sparkling since he'd just spent the last two hours with David in the stables, and the lad loved spending time with the horses.

Killian still smiled when he stepped back to his desk, the smile only faltering when his eyes fell on the letter Robin had sent him two weeks ago. He'd read it once again, contemplating if waiting was really the right choice. But he didn't have anything in hand against Neal and Milah just yet. It wasn't against the law that Milah met with her son, even though in all the time he'd spent with her she'd never mentioned having a son, nor did the information Robin found indicate that Neal knew about her. But speculating about why Milah went to Neal wouldn't help the matter. Killian suspected she went there to scheme with him, but he couldn't be certain; she might have only visited him to get acquainted with her son.

"Not bloody likely," Killian scoffed, raking one hand through his hair before grabbing the letter and shoving it into the drawer.

He wished he could forget about it entirely, the last three weeks with Emma had been extraordinary – days spent riding whenever the weather allowed, her body warm against his in the evenings when they were reading the book he gave her, her intelligence leaving him in wonder time and time again when she started to discuss events of the book with him, and every night she was lying in his arms, her arm wrapped around his waist when she dropped off to sleep.

He didn't want to disturb the peace they'd found here in the country, but he couldn't hide this any longer from his wife. She should know; she needed to know. He just hadn't found the right time yet to tell her. Before he could dwell on that dilemma further, he was interrupted by Henry rushing into the room, and he thanked the Lord silently for the welcome intrusion.

"Killy?" Henry asked eagerly.

"Yes, Henry?"

"You always read with mommy, and ..." Henry trailed off, shifting on his feet a moment before he stepped forward and thrust a book towards Killian, Henry's gaze full of hope as he stared up at him. "Can you read with me, too?"

Killian grinned down at him, feeling honored that the lad had asked him, and he took the book from Henry and nodded towards the settee. Henry climbed up on it with Killian's help, surprising Killian when he didn't sit down beside him but settled on Killian's lap. Henry's head came to rest on his shoulder, and Killian's throat closed with emotion as he pressed his lips on Henry's forehead.

"Start from the beginning," Henry said eagerly, his small hands gripping the book and opening it to the first page.

"Of course, young Sir," Killian replied teasingly, and Henry let out a giggle and shifted on his lap for a more comfortable position before sagging against him again.

"David said there is a giant in this book," Henry told him, clear excitement in his voice. "Up on a beanstalk."

Killian looked down at the book, realizing just now which book Henry had brought with him. It was one of the books Liam had read to him when he was little, and Killian had to clear his throat to get rid of the sudden lump that had formed in his throat before he was able to start reading. "Once upon a time there was a poor widow who lived in a little cottage with her only son Jack."

* * *

Emma had made a decision this morning; tonight she would offer her body to her husband, and this time she would not shirk away. This time she would let him take her body. She suppressed the shiver that wanted to run down her spine and straightened her shoulders. Since she had her courses last week - the third time after Neal forced himself on her - Emma was fairly certain that she wasn't with child, and that knowledge made her determined to stop letting the fears Neal caused rule her life.

Killian was her husband; he had a right to her body, and it wasn't as if she didn't feel attracted to him and wanted to share her body with him. Sleeping in his arms over the last three weeks had helped; she didn't flinch anymore every time he touched her behind closed doors, and it was time to take the next step.

Taking in a deep breath, she walked out of the bathroom and into his bedchamber - the chamber they had shared over the last three weeks- and before she could change her mind again, she slipped out of her nightgown and stepped towards the bed.

The room was only illuminated by a sole candle sitting on the nightstand on Killian's side, and his eyes glittered in the candlelight when he looked up at her. His mouth dropped open when he registered her nude form, and she saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he gulped hard. His gaze flickered over her body, and Emma suppressed the urge to lift her arms to cover herself up. Instead she balled her hands into fists beside her body, and waited for his gaze to meet hers again.

His eyes softened as he looked at her, his tone gentle as he asked, "Are you sure, Emma?"

"No," she whispered, hoping her knees wouldn't give out under her, but she drew on all the courage she could muster up and added, "But if I don't face my demons, they will consume my whole life one day. And I'm not going to let them win."

* * *

She was a beautiful woman, and only looking at her naked form made him rock hard; but he needed to tread carefully. He could see her trembling, goosebumps running over her whole body, but she kept her eyes up, meeting his gaze with a determined expression on her face. If she wanted to fight her demons, he would do everything in his powers to help her with the battle.

"Come here, love."

She climbed into bed and laid down beside him. Her whole body was stiff, and her lips quivered as he propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her.

"A woman should always feel only pleasure in bed; the female body is a work of art that should be cherished." He lifted his hand slowly, starting to trace one finger over her lips and along her jaw, letting his fingers ghost over her neck as he continued to speak in a hushed voice, "If you need me to stop just say the word, all right?"

He ceased any movement for a moment, waiting for her affirmative nod before he started to caress her skin again. Brushing his fingers lower, he saw her eyes go wide, and her breath quickened as he came closer and closer to her peak. Her pulse was hammering in her neck, her hands were pressed against the sheets so hard that her knuckles were white, but she didn't say a word.

"I would never hurt you, Emma," Killian whispered, drawing one finger around her nipple, watching her closely the whole time.

"I know," she murmured, jerking slightly when he stretched out his hand and let his palm rub over her engorged peak while he massaged her breast gently.

She relaxed a fraction when he leaned forward to brush his lips over hers and she opened her mouth to his tongue, kissing him back tentatively, clearly consumed by listening to the reactions of her own body to his touch. He kissed her slowly for quite some time, smoothing his fingers over her breast and down her ribs.

"Will you let me touch you there?" he asked softly, keeping his voice low as he leaned back and spread his fingers out so that the tip of his middle finger was only inches away from the apex of her thighs.

Killian felt her stomach muscles tremble under his hand, and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, her chest heaving with ragged breaths as she was obviously contemplating if she was ready to let him touch her that intimately. Her eyes bored into his, and he forced himself to keep completely still until she'd made up her mind.

"Yes," she breathed finally.

He slipped his hand lower, hardly exerting any pressure as he reached her pubic hair. Her hips arched up from the mattress as he found her swollen nub, and he started to rub it gently, seeing her eyes change color and her mouth dropping open in a surprised O as his movements apparently shot sparks of pleasure through her body. She let out a soft moan when he left the nub and slid his fingers lower to massage her entrance, gathering her arousal before returning to pleasure her clit again.

Her eyes were closed now, fallen shut when he pressed his thumb against her clit while gliding the tip of his middle finger into her warm sheath. Leaning forward, he let his tongue flick over her nipple and she gasped, her eyes snapping opened, and he stopped immediately, waiting for her to tell him to stop. But she didn't; just releasing a deep breath before her hand suddenly skimmed over his naked back and her fingers threaded through his hair while her hips bucked up against his hand, encouraging him silently to continue.

He was careful to tread her gently, to not give in to the raging waves of lust that were coursing through his body. He suckled softly at her nipple, teasing it with his tongue while keeping up the soft rubbing of her clit. Moans slipped out of her mouth more frequently, and he let his middle finger slip deeper and deeper inside her, moving it slowly back and forth, but never stopping to watch her body for any signs of discomfort or fear. Though all he saw was her body writhing under him in pleasure, and he kept bringing her closer and closer until her body arched from the mattress and her eyes snapped opened in surprise again as the quivers of her climax raced through her.

He brought her down gently, ignoring the throbbing of his cock when her walls fluttered around his finger, and he pressed a soft kiss against her lips as he slipped his finger out of her before pulling her into his arms.

She came willingly, resting her head on his chest, her arm curling around his waist. She didn't speak at first, and he hoped the fact that she didn't jump out of the bed, but stayed in his arms was a good sign.

"You all right, love?" he asked after a few minutes, unable to endure the silence one moment longer.

She pushed back from him then, pressing her hand against his chest as her eyes met his. "I didn't know that … I never thought this was possible," she whispered, pure astonishment in her eyes as she looked down at him. Her hand reached for his face, cradling his cheek, her thumb skimming over his lips as she breathed, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Killian replied, his lips tingling under her touch, and he tilted his head to press a kiss into the palm of her hand.

A smile played over her lips then before a flash of uncertainty flickered over her expression and her fingers tightened against his cheek. "Killian?"

"Aye?"

"Don't you … I mean ..." she trailed off, her gaze dropping down to his midsection, and he felt his cock pulsing painfully against the fabric of his drawers when her tongue appeared to lick over her bottom lip. "Should I … don't you want to find release, too?"

"Don't worry about me," he replied, forcing himself to give her a lopsided smirk even though his cock was threatening to explode any moment. "I'm fine. We agreed on one step at a time, didn't we?"

"We did," she said, obvious relief tinging her voice, telling him that his decision not to take this any further tonight had been the right one.

Emma snuggled against him again, and Killian shifted until he was able to blow out the candle on the nightstand before settling in with her. He waited until he was sure Emma was sound asleep before he slipped out of the bed and wandered into the adjacent bathroom.

He wouldn't find any sleep if he didn't find some release, so he wrapped his bad hand around his still hard cock and started to pump, ignoring the pain that shot through the joints as he curled his fingers around his length. He lifted his other hand to his face - the one with which he'd pleasured Emma - and let out a soft groan when the scent of her arousal hit his nostrils. His movements became jerky as he remembered the sounds Emma had made only a few minutes earlier, and he flicked his tongue against one finger, tasting her juices in his mouth, and he came with a soft moan on the next jerk of his hand.

He cleaned himself up afterwards as silently as possible, feeling slight reluctance to wash his hands. But one hand was sticky with his semen and he couldn't clean that one up properly without using the other one, so he brought his hand to his face to smell at it one last time. Inhaling deeply, he tried to store the scent of her arousal in the olfactory part of his brain, trying not to feel foolish for doing so. But he still felt a pang of regret when he reached for the soap to wash his hands a moment later.

As he slipped back into bed Emma shifted, mumbling something incoherently in her sleep. He pulled her into his arms, and she slackened against him without waking up. Her hair was spilled out over his arm, the soft strands tickling his skin while her breath brushed over his naked chest.

Killian couldn't be more happy that they'd finally taken the next step in their relationship, but a voice inside his head kept nagging at him. He still hadn't told her about Neal and Milah; he knew she had a right to know, and before they took it any further he would tell her.

He just hoped telling her wouldn't destroy the progress they'd made.


	11. Chapter 11

When Emma woke up to an empty bed again she felt the pang of disappointment, followed by a flush of embarrassment heating her cheeks as she recalled what happened the night before. She really didn't know that feeling such kind of pleasure was possible, and sudden tears pricked the back of her eyes with gratitude for her husband. The patience he was showing was incredible, and she could never thank him enough for taking it this slow with her.

She'd felt a surge of relief when he'd told her that they didn't need to do anything more. She didn't think she was ready yet to feel him lying down between her legs and enter her. Though she had to admit she was curious about exploring his body, wanted to know if she could give him pleasure by only touching his skin as much as he'd given her.

A smile was flickering over her lips while her maid was helping her get ready for the day, and she almost floated down the stairs, hoping she would find Killian still at breakfast.

He was; perusing some papers laying in front of him on the table. But he hardly greeted her, only a mumbled good morning without looking up, and part of the lightness she'd felt since waking up deflated as she sat down and waited for her plate to be filled and a steaming cup of tea put in front of her.

Killian didn't say anything else to her, his eyes cast down towards the papers the whole time, and after she'd forced a few forks of egg down her throat he stood up and excused himself, rushing out of the room without making eye contact, and the swallowed egg formed a hard ball in her stomach as she looked after him.

She'd been so happy about taking this next step, about finally being able to let Killian touch her without the shadows of her past forcing her to shrink back. But apparently he didn't feel the same way, and Emma gulped hard, denying the tears gathering in her eyes to fall.

* * *

Killian was scolding himself as he walked towards the stables; he couldn't even look her in the eyes at the breakfast table, the secret he was keeping weighing heavy on his shoulders. He could still recall her scent, and had to stop himself to lift his hand to his face. He bloody well knew he couldn't smell her on his fingers anymore, but God did he want to smell her again. But considering what he needed to tell her he might never be allowed to touch her again, and thinking about never being able to be near her again in that intimate way made him want to put his fist through the stable wall.

"You're a bloody fool," Killian mumbled under his breath as he stomped into the stables.

"Can't contradict you on that one," David replied, coming out of a stall at the back. "Woman trouble?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Killian snapped, almost kicking a bucket of water, but holding himself back at the last moment. There was no need to agitate the horses, they were not the reason he was a fool after all.

"But maybe you should talk about it with her?"

"With whom?" Killian asked, even though he knew that David was well aware that there was only one woman who could make him lose his mind like that.

"The woman who is giving you the trouble," David clarified, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It has nothing to do with her." Killian rubbed a tired hand over his face; he'd hardly slept last night. But David was looking at him with a knowing expression on his face, and he admitted begrudgingly, "Well, not directly."

"You want me to saddle Devil for you?"

"Aye, that would be great. Thank you, David."

Galloping over the fields on Devil's back was helping clear out his head. He pushed Devil to his limits, the stallion loving the hard ride as much as Killian did obviously, since the stallion let out a loud whinny and shook his head when Killian stopped him on the hill overlooking the valley. He could hardly make out the mansion, but he could see its roof over the trees, and as he looked out over the acres of land belonging to him, the brisk wind ruffling his hair, he made the decision to stop being a coward.

He would tell her everything tonight.

* * *

Emma was standing in the hall, a few feet away from the library, and stared at the closed door, contemplating if she should just go to bed alone. Killian had hardly spoken to her at dinner and had closed himself into the library afterwards. She should go to him and talk to him, but she didn't feel ready to do so. If everything would get back to the way it was before she let him touch her she needed some time to prepare herself.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe she could face him tomorrow.

But before she could turn around and walk up the stairs to their bedchamber the door of the library opened and Killian stepped out. He seemed slightly startled by finding her in the hall, but recovered almost instantly and waved his hand towards the room.

"I need to have a word with you, Emma." Her heart plummeted into her stomach as she stepped into the room, and her hands started to tremble as she heard him close the door. She couldn't look up, a lump forming in her throat as she saw him walking towards the settee out of the corner of her eyes. She knew it, she did something wrong, and now he would tell her that he didn't want to touch her ever again, or that he wanted to end their marriage, or that ... "It's about Neal. And Milah."

Her eyes snapped up to his, her mouth dropping open in surprise. She definitely didn't expect that, and the first question that popped up in her brain just spilled over her lips. "Who is Milah?"

He jerked slightly, a blush rising to his cheeks and his hand lifted to scratch behind his ear as he shifted on his feet. "Aehm, my former mistress."

Emma was completely confused now, didn't know what Neal had to do with Killian's mistress, but alone the mention of Neal let her stomach tighten into a hard knot, and her hands balled reflexively into fists.

"Maybe you should sit down," Killian said softly, gesturing to the settee.

Emma was surprised that she managed to get to the settee and sit down without her knees giving out under her. Pressing her balled hands hard into her thighs, she closed her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and facing Killian. "What about them?"

He was watching her with a worried expression on his face, signs of an inner struggle flickering over his eyes, but before he could tell her it was nothing she forced herself to open one hand and reach for his, clasping his fingers in hers as she said firmly, "Tell me."

He looked down at their entwined hands for a moment, then he gulped hard and met her gaze again, and she braced herself as well as she could for whatever he was about to tell her.

"I asked a friend to find out anything there is to know about Neal, and after I've met him in person and broken his nose … I just think his pride won't allow him to back out without a fight. I just wanted to make sure his blow doesn't come out of nowhere. I want to be prepared."

Emma didn't know if she wanted to hit him for making inquiries about Neal without telling her, or hug him for being so incredible sweet. Since she couldn't make up her mind, she asked him a question, telling herself she needed to know everything first before she could decide which feeling would win out in the end. "Where does Milah fit into the picture?"

He inhaled a deep breath, but didn't avert his eyes as he answered her, "I found out that she is Neal's mother?"

"She is what?" Emma shouted, her nails digging into Killian's skin, but he didn't even flinch, and she forced herself to loosen her grip before she said in a much quieter tone, "Your mistress is Neal's mother?"

"Former mistress," Killian said firmly, and his correction made her heart skip a beat with joy. "But yes, she is his mother."

"I don't understand."

So Killian told her everything he knew and everything about the steps he'd taken to ensure their safety, and the more he told her the more the urge to hug him drowned out the urge to hit him. Neal was a very proud man, and Killian was probably right; he wouldn't just slink away into the shadows and give up, he would fight, and they needed to be prepared. When Killian finished his accounts she was just left with a feeling of gratitude towards her considerate husband. She should have thought of it on her own, but she didn't. Thanks to Killian they would immediately know if Neal made a move.

Emma did feel grateful, but she also remembered the anguish she'd felt all day thinking Killian didn't want her anymore, and she averted her gaze to her lap, whispering under her breath, "I thought you wanted to talk to me about last night, wanted to tell me that you didn't want to touch me anymore." His fingers tightened around hers and she looked up. "I thought I did something wrong."

"No, Lord no. You were magnificent, love. Truly magnificent," he assured her. "God, I'm sorry. You thought I was disappointed about last night?"

"You were just so brusque at breakfast and I thought ..."

"It had nothing to do with last night, love. It was only due to the secret I was keeping, and the knowledge that I have to tell you the truth." He looked at her sheepishly, and shrugged one shoulder. "And I was afraid you would push me away after hearing it."

"I need to admit that I feel slightly hurt that you didn't confess it to me sooner, but I understand why you did it in the first place." He seemed surprised that she accepted it so easily, but also relieved, and she almost leaned forward to wrap her arms around him, but instead she lifted one hand to cup his face, and said softly, "You just want to protect Henry and me."

"Aye," he replied, tilting his head to lean into her touch. His eyes closed for a moment, and when he opened them again they were shining bright with a determined fierceness. "He'll never come anywhere close to you ever again."

The lump in her throat grew as she looked at him and her heart melted under his gaze. Staring into his blue eyes, Emma realized that if she'd ever be able to love someone it'd be the man sitting beside her right now.

"Since it seems to be the hour of confession … I have one of my own," she whispered, letting her hand drop down, knowing that she had to be as honest with him as he'd been with her. "You know that Neal has forced himself on me. What you don't know ..." She took a deep breath, and he pulled her closer, reaching for her other hand, his silent support making it easier to say the next words, "I could have been pregnant with his child when I proposed marriage to you, and I know I should have probably told you that, but I didn't know you. I didn't know what you would do, and I needed you to marry me," she admitted, looking over his shoulder, not able to look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry for not telling you about it, Killian."

"Yours was a dire situation." He lifted their entwined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles, lingering there until she met his eyes again. "You were desperate. I can understand that."

"You're not angry?"

"No," he said, a smile playing over his lips, his fingers squeezing hers reassuringly when he continued in a calm voice, "I'm well aware that you wouldn't have been able to know who the father is if we've had consummated our marriage and you've gotten with child. But I hope you would have told me nonetheless … since you know me now."

"I would have."

Killian pulled her into his arms then, and she snuggled into him, letting her brain try to process all the things he'd told her, but she just felt too content in his arms, too tired to keep thinking about all the things Neal might do.

The crackling of the fire was the only sound for quite some time until Killian shifted and pushed her back gently, his fingers ghosting over her cheek as he brushed a strand of her hair back.

"So … since we've got these particular weights off our shoulders … would you let me accompany you to our bedchamber?"

Emma felt a jolt run through her body, wondering if the slow burning heat she thought she was seeing in his eyes was a silent promise that he would touch her again like he had the night before.

She felt his hand at the small of her back burning through her dress as they walked up the stairs to their bedchamber, and her body started to tingle with the heat that spread from his hand through her whole body. But when he helped her out of her dress a chill went down her spine; their conversation in the library had brought back the memories about Neal that she'd thought she'd begun to bury by sharing that night of pleasure with Killian. But now he was back again, in the forefront of her brain, though she wasn't willing to let him take root there again.

She reached for her shift with determination, starting to pull it up her body, but Killian's hand on her arm stopped her, his voice soft as he said, "Emma, we don't have to ..."

"I want to. I want you to touch me, Killian." She laid her hand over his, leaning against him. "Like last night?"

He hesitated only for a brief moment, his lips brushing over her forehead as he murmured, "As you wish, love."

Killian led her to the bed before lifting the shift over her head and helping her on the mattress. He undressed slowly, but leaving his drawers on, like last night, his obvious arousal making her body hum with anticipation as he joined her.

He started by kissing her tenderly, a kiss that she felt in every fiber of her body, and then he kissed a path down her throat, his fingers playing over her skin the whole time. With every brush of his lips and fingers she relaxed more, and when his mouth found her nipple and suckled at it softly she didn't think anymore but only let herself feel.

She closed her eyes, soaking in all the sensations he elicited in her with his mouth and hands, but she took in a startled breath as she felt him push her legs gently apart, and her eyes snapped open to see him lying down between her legs, with his head between her thighs, his eyes dark in the light of the candles as he looked up at her, and rasped, "I wanted to taste you for so long."

"What … what are you doing?" she whispered, not sure what he wanted to do next.

"Kissing you," he replied with a cheeky grin, tilting his head to brush his lips over her skin before he leaned closer, his mouth hovering inches over her core.

"Down there?" She didn't know that you could be kissed there.

"Do you trust me, Emma?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitating. "I do."

"Then lean back and enjoy."

A gasp slipped over her lips when the bristles of his beard skimmed over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and her hips jerked upwards on their own accord when his lips brushed over her most intimate part. Embarrassment was washing over her and she closed her eyes again, but a part of her was already trembling with anticipation. She held on to that part, and tried to relax, concentrating all her senses on the movement of his mouth between her legs.

But her eyes snapped open and she let out a startled shriek as his tongue slipped through her folds, and she buried her fingers in his hair to stop him. He obliged immediately, looking up at her with eyes hooded with lust. She thought he was doing it only for her, but one look in his eyes showed her that he enjoyed kissing her down there, and her fingers loosened their tight grip on his hair.

"You don't like it?" he asked softly.

"I … I don't know. It's ..." She looked down at him, wondering why she didn't feel more embarrassed about the fact that he was lying with his head between her legs, but he apparently wanted to be there, and she asked with a barely audible voice, "Do _you_ like it?"

"Very much. You taste marvelous." He leaned forward and let his tongue flick against the point he'd touched the night before, the point that made her whole body quiver. "Take my hand."

She grasped his hand then, tightening her grip as he started to tease her sensitive spot with his tongue again. She didn't think it possible that he could give her even greater pleasure than he already had, but his tongue was doing wicked things to her, flicking over the sensitive spot and then he slipped lower and teased her entrance, licking over and around it, and she let out a moan when he let it glide into her, carefully at first.

But she needed more and she reached for his head with her other hand, fearing he would leave her if she didn't hold him there. He groaned against her folds, the sound shooting sparks through her whole body and then he started to move his tongue, pushing it in and out of her while his fingers found her sensitive spot again, and moments later she exploded into a million pieces, wave after wave crashing down on her, his mouth staying on her until the last shivers had subsided.

It took her a while until she was aware of her surroundings again, and she turned on her side, opening her eyes slowly to look at him. He was smiling at her, his hand skimming over her arm as she scooted closer. He didn't say anything, just wrapped his arm around her, and Emma wasn't able to say anything either. But when she tilted her head she saw the fabric of his drawers straining over the bulge in his pants, and she wondered if it hurt, because it definitely looked like it might pain him.

"Can I … I want to give you pleasure, too?" she whispered against his skin, pushing back to look down at him.

"You think you're ready for me to …" he trailed off, his fingers ghosting over her shoulder and down her chest, stopping before he reached her nipple. "For the consummation of our marriage?"

"No, not yet, but … you were giving me pleasure without ..." Emma was searching for the right words, struggling with explaining it without describing the actual act, "Isn't there a way for men to reach completion without needing to ..."

"There is," he murmured, his fingers skimming over her cheek. "I can use my hand."

"Can I … can you show me how?"

He eyed her with some scrutiny for a few moments before he reached for his drawers and her heart skipped a beat when he pushed them down and his arousal sprang out. It was thick and long, and for a brief moment her chest constricted with fear as she imagined it being shoved inside of her. But Killian sensed her unease and pulled her chin up, and the moment she looked into his eyes all her fear evaporated, being replaced by a sense of curiosity as she let her gaze drift down to his arousal again.

"What do I have to do?"

"Curl your hand around it," he said, and she did. "Aye, just like that. A little tighter."

"What now?"

"See the droplet on the tip?" Killian asked, sounding breathless as he explained, "Gather it with the palm of your hand."

Emma let her hand glide upwards and rubbed it over the tip, feeling the palm of her hand getting slightly slippery, and she exclaimed, "Oh, it's like greasing a wheel?"

"Something like that, aye," he replied with a chuckle, letting out a moan when she let her hand slip down his shaft again, and his head dropped back onto the pillow, his voice a hoarse rasp as he said, "Just pump your hand up and down."

She obeyed, relishing in feeling the silken skin under her fingers. "Like this?"

"Aye, exactly like this."

It felt exhilarating to have him in her hand like this, and she watched him closely, letting his body language guide her, and his hoarse voice was murmuring now and again, telling her if something felt uncomfortable for him. But it didn't take her long until she knew exactly how to move her hand to elicit these deep groans out of him, and she felt herself getting aroused by giving him pleasure, suddenly realizing why he liked putting his mouth on her core.

"Faster," Killian hissed through clenched teeth, and she quickened the movement of her hand, watching him with a fascination she'd never felt before. His eyes were screwed shut and he was panting heavily, his hands were clenching the sheet between his fingers, and groans spilled over his lips every few seconds.

Emma tightened her hand a little more around him, feeling a surge of pride sweeping through her as his back arched from the mattress and his eyes snapped open. The color of his eyes was a stormy gray by now, and she couldn't look away as she pumped her hand up and down, knowing instinctively that he was close to finding release, and a few pumps later a guttural growl rumbled out of his chest and his hips jerked up into her hand, spurts of semen shooting out of him and onto his stomach. She didn't still her hand until he was totally spent, just staring down at him, feelings of wonder and awe blooming inside of her.

Killian's chest was heaving with ragged breaths, a fine sheen of sweat was covering his face and chest, and Emma loosened her grip around his slackening cock, not feeling in the slightest disgusted by his sticky seed covering her fingers.

She did that to him, she devastated him like this, and she felt glorious, powerful.

"Did I do it right?" Emma asked when he opened his eyes, though judging from the amount of groans she elicited out of him she didn't think she was doing anything wrong.

"You're a natural, love," he replied with a hoarse voice, a smile flickering over his mouth as he lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over her lips.

She wanted to snuggle into his embrace, but first they needed to clean up and Killian was apparently of the same mind, asking her softly, "Would you mind getting a towel for me?" He gestured towards the liquid covering his stomach. "I don't want to spread this all over."

Emma climbed out of bed and walked into the bathroom, washing her hands briefly before dipping one end of a towel in the water of the basin and wringing it out before bringing it back to her husband. He cleaned himself up with swift movements and the towel landed on the floor with a dull thud, his arms reaching for her and pulling her against his chest.

Emma nestled against him and closed her eyes, feeling Killian shift under her as he blew out the candles and pulled the blanket over their bodies. She relaxed against him, splaying her fingers out over his stomach, and a jolt snapped through her body as the tips of her fingers brushed against his length. For a moment she contemplated curling her hand around him to find out if she could devastate him again, but his hand closed around hers and stopped her, his chest vibrating under her ear as he chuckled lowly.

"One step at a time, love. One step at a time."


	12. Chapter 12

Killian woke up before Emma, knowing he needed to start the day early. He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Emma up, and put on his drawers, stockings, breeches and shirt before coming back to the bed again and sitting down beside her.

She was sleeping peacefully and he didn't want to wake her, but he remembered how she'd taken his absence the day before, and he wouldn't leave her without a word today, so he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek, letting his fingers ghost over her hair and cheek until she stirred and opened her eyes slowly.

"Good morning, beautiful."

She was breathtakingly beautiful so early in the morning, her eyes were still hooded with sleep and seemed to be a deeper green than usual, and a becoming blush crept over her cheeks as she realized that she was completely naked under the sheets while he was already dressed for the day.

"Good morning," she whispered, pulling the sheet under her chin to cover as much of her body as possible.

He was tempted to kiss her until she melted under him, to draw the sheet away from her perfect body and cherish every inch of her skin, to put his mouth on her and bring her pleasure until she screamed his name. But duty called, no matter how much he wished to spend the whole day in bed with his wife.

"I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed last night." The blush deepened on her cheeks, and his cock jerked in his breeches as her eyes flickered to his midsection, making it even more difficult for him to leave her, but he was expected in the village. "I need to leave now, though. Ducal obligations. I just didn't want to leave you with any doubts."

Her mouth curled up into a smile, her hand appearing from under the sheet to squeeze his fingers. "Thank you for waking me, Killian."

"You're welcome." He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it briefly before standing up reluctantly. "See you later, milady."

* * *

The day had been long and exhausting, and Killian was glad to be back home. He descended Devil with a groan, his back was aching from sitting all day on a hard bench in the tavern, his head buzzing with all the details his tenants had brought to his attention.

He wished he could leave Devil to the stable boy, but he knew that the boy had his free day today, and he'd never considered himself too good to care for his horse on his own, so he cared for Devil as fast as possible. He just wanted to get into the house and warm up, wanted to see his wife and listen to the stories Henry would probably want to tell him.

Maybe he was too tired, or just too distracted as the stable door burst open and Henry rushed in, starting to talk loudly the moment he saw Killian. Devil wasn't fond of being so rudely disturbed in his evening meal and jerked his head, his hooves hitting the ground with annoyance. On a normal day nothing would have happened, but today Killian was a split second too slow and stumbled over a bucket as he jerked back to evade Devil's hooves. He tried to steady himself on the door of the stall but his hand scraped only over the wood, and he stepped unfortunately on the handle of the bucket in a strange angle and his ankle snapped to the side. A sharp pain shot along the bone, making him gasp and crumble to the ground.

"Bloody hell," he hissed under his breath, gritting his teeth as he shifted and another flash of pain sizzled up his leg.

"Killy?" Henry asked anxiously, crouching down beside him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Henry," he assured the lad, forcing a smile on his face to ease the boy's concerns. "Would you get David for me though? I think I might need his help to get back to the house."

Of course he refused to send for the doctor, but his wish wasn't respected in any way. Emma was bustling around him, merely raising an eyebrow when he started to complain, and he wasn't up to arguing with her at the moment, so he just laid his head back and closed his eyes as they propped his leg up on some cushions, only wincing when David pulled the boot off his foot before the swelling would make it impossible to be removed.

He chanced a glance when Emma pulled his stocking down, the sight not really encouraging. His ankle was already swollen to twice its size, and he tried to cheer himself up by announcing that it didn't look broken, hoping he might convince his wife that a doctor wasn't necessary after all, but Emma just rolled her eyes and turned around to confer with Mary Margaret about the treatment of his ankle.

Fortunately the doctor affirmed his statement, telling him that the ankle wasn't broken but badly strained. Killian didn't even manage a satisfied smirk, the poking fingers of the doctor had brought sweat to his forehead, and his jaw hurt from clenching it tight shut to keep himself from groaning out in pain. He gulped hard, and closed his eyes again, willing himself to ignore the pain which turned out to be a futile undertaking.

"I'll take good care of him."

Emma's voice drifted towards him, and Killian hoped the doctor had given her some instructions that might ease the pounding pain in his ankle, because it was hurting more and more as the seconds ticked by and he didn't know how long he could keep up the facade and pretend that it wasn't hurting like hell.

The settee dipped down beside him, and Killian turned his head slowly and opened his eyes, seeing Henry sitting beside him with a worried expression on his face. "Was this my fault, Killy?"

"No," he said firmly, forcing himself to focus on Henry and not the pain. "I wasn't really paying attention, and as I've taught you … you always need to pay attention when you're around horses, right?"

"Right," Henry replied, scooting closer to him, the movement jostling his leg and he clenched his teeth, not wanting Henry to see how much his ankle actually hurt.

"But next time don't rush into the stable," Killian said firmly. "And no shouting."

"I'm sorry, Killy. I'm sorry you're hurt."

"I know, Henry. It's only a sprained ankle though. Nothing major. I'll be up and about in no time."

"You want me to tell you a story?" Henry asked eagerly.

"Aye," Killian replied, smiling down at him. "That would be great."

Henry was chattering away happily, and Killian listened to the boy's ramblings attentively, grateful for everything that would draw his mind away from the pain.

He hadn't paid much attention to Emma since the doctor left, but as he looked up now he saw her shuffling around by the hearth and a moment later she walked over towards him, crouching down in front of him and putting a cold towel carefully over his ankle, a soft sigh slipping over his lips when the coolness brought some immediate relief.

Henry kept his mind occupied, telling him some wild story about a dragon, a hero with a legendary sword, and a princess that needed to be rescued, while Emma was changing the towel on his ankle whenever it became too warm, replacing it with an ice cold one that helped keeping the swelling down, though the skin around his ankle was already shimmering in a multitude of colors. But at least the pressure he'd felt was gone now, and as long as he didn't move the ankle the pain was bearable.

When the hero was about to kill the dragon Mary Margaret stepped into the room with a tea tray in one hand and a bucket of snow in the other hand, putting the bucket down beside the hearth to let it melt and the tray on the table beside the settee. She told them resolutely that she'd be serving dinner in about half an hour before rushing out of the room, and leaving it to Emma to pour each of them a cup of tea. Killian shot her a grateful smile when she added a splash of scotch to his cup when Henry wasn't looking, his fingers curling around the warm cup when she put it into his hand.

Mary Margaret came back a short time later, carrying a tray with cold meat and bread, a bottle of wine for Emma and himself, and a glass of lemonade for Henry. They enjoyed the simple meal, and afterwards Henry slumped against his shoulder, apparently worn out by the events of the day, falling asleep a few minutes later.

Emma swooped her son up into her arms, ignoring Killian's silent suggestion to call a servant to carry Henry up to his room. Closing his eyes, he wondered if he'd even be able to get up to their bedchamber later or if he had to spend the night down here. But when Emma stepped into the room all thoughts of later vanished out of his brain, and he just wanted to lean his head against her shoulder and feel her fingers thread through his hair.

"I brought us a book to read," she said softly as she sat down beside him. "Treasure Island."

He didn't want to be ungrateful, but he really wasn't feeling up to reading for her right now, and he was just about to tell her that when she opened the book on the first page and started to read.

She stumbled over every word at first, but the longer she was reading the more she relaxed, and even though she was reading with a very halting voice, he loved every second of it. She was reading aloud for _him_ , putting her insecurities aside to make him feel better, and his throat closed up with emotions, his heart swelling with the love he felt for her, and if his ankle hadn't shot arrows of pain up his leg every few seconds he would have pulled her into his lap and kissed her senseless.

* * *

Two days later he was barking at everything and everyone, hating to lie around all the time. His ankle had approved considerably; he still couldn't put all his weight on it, but it had stopped pounding as long as he didn't move it too much. But the inactivity forced upon him wasn't helping his mood, especially since he wasn't able to take his relationship with Emma any further as long as he was hampered by his sprained ankle.

His problem walked into the room a moment later, only clad in her nightshift. The cool air of the room made her nipples pucker against the fine fabric, and the sight made his cock harden as she climbed into bed with him. He was about to pull the sheet over his body to hide his obvious arousal when her hand came to rest against his thigh, his cock twitching towards her fingers in answer.

"Do you think ..." she trailed off, her gaze wandering down his body, and her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as her hand shifted on his thigh so that the tips of her fingers were brushing against his length.

"Don't do this?" he gritted out through clenched teeth, her eyes jumping to his, wide with surprise.

"Don't do what?" she asked, her hand moving higher, betraying the innocent tone of her voice as mockery.

"Don't bite your lip like that?" he growled, his fingers shaking with the urge to cup her breasts and knead them.

"Why?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side while her fingers played over his pounding cock. "You don't like it?"

"I like it too much."

"I see." Her hand tightened, cupping his arousal and squeezing it gently. "Can we do anything about it without upsetting your ankle?"

"You can always be on top," he told her, the words meant to be in jest, but a spark of excitement flickered over her eyes, almost making him groan out loud.

"On top?" she asked, biting her bottom lip again, and this time he let out a groan. "Can we try?"

He drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly to hold on to his control. He didn't want her to push herself too far too soon, and he lifted his hands to cradle her face, asking her softly, "Are you sure?"

"No," she replied, but she still drew back and reached for her shift, pulling it over her head and throwing it on the ground.

He didn't move, just looked at her, seeing her nipples pucker even more as her eyes lingered on the bulge in his drawers, and he feared he might combust before she'd even touched him.

"Emma?" He waited until she met his gaze before saying softly, "We don't have to ..."

"Yes," she said firmly. "We do."

Her fingers were trembling as she closed them around the hem of his drawers, and he balanced himself on his good ankle and pushed his hips up so that she could pull them down his legs. She didn't waste any time, probably not giving herself time to overthink it, before she straddled him, lowering herself down on his thighs, her hand reaching for his cock and closing around it to pump it slowly.

"Let me feel you," he breathed, and she only hesitated for a moment before letting go of his cock to slide further up his body, her core pressing against him, her heat making him draw in a sharp breath.

She grinded her hips hard against his cock, rubbing furiously over him until he laid his hand on her thigh to stop her frantic movements and her eyes snapped to his.

"Easy, love," he said softly, skimming his fingers over her skin until the frantic look in her eyes disappeared and sparks of lust flickered up again. "I'm not going anywhere. Take it as slow as you need to."

He didn't guide her, letting her find her way on her own. Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she moved atop of him, pressing her folds against his cock, shifting her hips so that his cock glided over her clit with every tilt of her hips.

Killian gritted his teeth again, praying to the Lord that he could hold out - at least until he was in her. She was moving tantalizingly slowly atop of him, her arousal starting to wet his cock, and finally she pulled away and reached between their bodies, closing her hand around him and guiding him to her entrance.

He watched her closely for any sign of discomfort or fear, ignoring the pounding of his cock for the moment to make sure she was all right. But she obviously was, her mouth opening on a sigh as she let his tip slip in.

The shallow downward thrusts of her hips almost made him come, with each thrust he slipped deeper into her, and she enveloped his cock so tight that he flexed his ankle on purpose, using the pain to keep himself from spilling his seed into her before he was even completely inside her.

She apparently registered the flicker of pain on his face and stopped her movements, her fingers caressing his chest as she looked at him with a slight frown between her eyes.

"Does your ankle hurt?" she asked, and he almost laughed out loud. Because everything hurt. His whole body hurt with a fierce ache, a longing to bury himself in her, to feel his cock slide in and out of her, to feel her heat surrounding him completely.

"I'm fine," he told her instead, letting his fingers skim over her breasts, his cock hardening even more as she let out a soft moan when he tugged at her nipple softly. She was a goddess, and he needed her to move. "Keep going."

"Am I doing it right?" Emma whispered, her voice a soft drawl, and then she pushed down again and he slipped back into her warm, tight sheath. His breath hitched in his throat as she pulled back again, and he thought his heart might stop as he looked up at her, mesmerized by her beauty. His cock twitched as a mischievous grin tilted up the corners of her mouth, and her next words made him flex his ankle again. "Should I continue?"

"Bloody hell," Killian growled, fisting his hands around the sheet to keep himself from grabbing her waist and holding her steady while he pounded into her, his whole body trembling as he fought to restrain the hot lust that coursed through his veins. He let out a guttural growl when she lowered herself on him again, taking him all the way in this time, and he couldn't keep himself from pleading, "Please don't stop."

"I won't."

Her movements were jerky, unexperienced, but it didn't matter what she was doing. He was so aroused that he needed to concentrate on not coming before she'd found her release. Her movements became erratic and her hands curled on his chest; her eyes were squeezed shut, her brows furrowed as she tried to find the right angle, her mouth opening on a frustrated groan when she apparently didn't succeed. She clearly needed to come, but could obviously not get there without his help.

"Wait a moment, love," he rasped, pushing up on his elbows and shifting to one side to free one of his hands to reach her clit.

"Come for me, Emma," he whispered, rubbing his thumb over her sensitive bud, feeling her inner walls squeezing his cock.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, keeping his hand between their bodies while lowering his head to close his lips around her nipple, feeling his testicles drew up when she whimpered his name and jerked against him, being too far gone to actually lift her hips up and down. He felt close to bursting, being completely buried inside of her, and he wanted nothing more than to flip her around and plunge into her as deep as he could get, take her on a hard and fast ride. But he knew she wasn't ready for that yet, and he would never do anything that might frighten her, even if restraining himself might kill him.

"Come on, love," he rasped, flicking his tongue over her nipple while his thumb rubbed harder and faster over her clit. "I've got you."

Her nails dug into his skin, her hips rotating as he pushed her closer and closer, and then a groan slipped out of her mouth, her back arched as her climax hit her and her body started to quiver in his arms. Her walls clenching around his cock triggered his own climax, and he held her close, his face buried between her breasts, one arm wrapped tightly around her while, his fingers still pressed against her clit as he spilled his release into her.

His blood was rushing in his ears as he fell back on the mattress, taking Emma with him, his heart beating a frantic staccato in his chest as she collapsed atop of him. His ankle was pounding vehemently, pain shooting up his calf in the rhythm of his heartbeat, but he didn't care.

He tightened his arms around her as he felt her shifting, but when she stiffened he let his arms drop down immediately, and Emma pulled back, his cock slipping out of her slowly, his seed trickling down his length and onto his stomach. He didn't want to let her go, he wished he could stay buried inside of her forever, but he felt her retreat not only physically but mentally, too. She didn't look at him as she climbed off him, her gaze falling on his ankle.

"Your ankle?" she asked, still not meeting his eyes.

"It's fine."

He wanted to pull her chin up, needed to see her eyes to assure himself that she was all right. But before he could lift his hand she was already scrambling out of bed and disappeared in the bathroom, coming out with a towel moments later.

Killian reached for the towel and leaned forward to clean her first without thinking about it, but she didn't jerk away from his touch, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the blush rising on her cheeks when he brushed the towel tentatively over her folds. They'd just been a lot more intimate but she apparently felt embarrassed being cleaned up by him, and he turned his head away from her, taking care of the mess on his stomach, to give her some time to compose herself, and himself time to contemplate his next step.

When Killian turned to her again she was back in her shift, watching him closely, no trace of fear in her eyes and he relaxed. Reaching for his drawers, he pulled them on with some difficulty before blowing out the candles. The moment he laid down beside her Emma lifted his arm and scooted closer, pressing her body against his and burying her face in his chest.

"Are you all right, love?" he asked softly, letting his fingers trail up and down her spine. "It wasn't … it wasn't too soon?"

"No, it was ..." She shifted against him, her hand splaying out on his chest. Her lips brushed over his skin as she whispered, "It was perfect."

"Good," he replied softly. "I thought so, too."

Killian skimmed his lips over her forehead, hearing a soft sigh before she snuggled even closer. He waited for her breath to even out and her body to relax against his before he whispered into the darkness, "I love you, Emma."


	13. Chapter 13

Staring out of the window, watching the snowflakes hitting the ground, Emma wished they could stay here forever. Here in the country.

The past three months had been the best of her life; she'd never felt this happy before. Nothing had seemed to penetrate their bubble, they'd spent days in front of the fire, playing games with Henry, reading to each other. Henry and Killian had taken every opportunity to be out and about, dragging Emma with them as often as they could manage, and seeing her son so happy had made her heart ache.

Killian was so great with him, treating Henry as if he was his own son, and she didn't know how to thank him for it. Henry had never been so carefree; he could run through the house and make as much noise as he wanted, because nobody cared. Everyone loved him. Mary Margaret let him stay in the kitchen with her for hours, and if Henry wasn't in the kitchen he was at the stables with David.

Her son was happy here, and so was she.

Before she met Killian she didn't think she could ever feel this way. This happy. This cherished. Her husband was worshipping her body almost every night, and every time she melted into him, let him push her over the edge with his mouth and tongue, begging him to give her more.

He always gave her more, but she was always on top, and even if this position was giving her the most control, she also wondered how it might be if he was on top of her. A part of her still didn't feel ready to give up control, to trust him completely. But another part of her was screaming inside of her every time Killian joined her in bed. This part wanted her to spread her legs and just pull him over her and let him sink into her as deep as he could, let him fill her completely.

She'd needed the control; the control had helped her overcome one of her fears. The first time she'd let Killian slip inside of her, she could only do it because he'd been almost completely incapacitated. He could hardly move because of his injured ankle, and she'd felt in complete control, she'd known she could stop anytime she needed to. But she hadn't wanted to stop. It had felt good; really, really good, and she didn't want to give up feeling like this.

But the winter was coming to an end; she knew they had to go back to London very soon, and the thought made her heart grow heavy. They hadn't heard anything about Milah and Neal, but that didn't mean they could let their guards down. She knew Neal, she knew he wouldn't give up without a fight.

Killian and she couldn't hide forever. They had to face the real world eventually. But she didn't want to face the real world, she wanted to stay here forever. And with a suddenness that took her breath away the realization hit her that sometime over the last months she had fallen in love with her husband. Her heart was racing in her chest and she slumped down onto the next available chair, pressing one hand against her chest, in case her heart tried to leap out of her ribcage.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but then she started to wonder if her husband reciprocated her feelings and the smile faltered. Killian was very attentive, and she was certain he enjoyed spending time with her, in and out of bed. But love? Was it possible that her husband felt more for her than respect and lust? Or would he just stay in her bed until she was pregnant with his child?

Emma's hand slipped down to her stomach, the flatness of it causing a sad feeling to darken her heart. She still hadn't conceived, and the fact that she hadn't been able to give Killian an heir yet was weighting heavy on her shoulders. He never said anything, but she thought she could see a slight flicker of disappointment every time she told him they couldn't enjoy each other in bed because of her monthly courses.

How should she know if there was something more? Should she just ask him? No, she definitely couldn't just ask him, but what should she do then. Her head started to spin, and she felt her temples start to pound.

Deciding that she wasn't able to come to a decision just this minute, she pushed herself up from the chair and wandered over to the bookshelves. Maybe finding another book for them to read would distract her from her own thoughts, and she forced herself to concentrate on the titles as she let her fingers glide over the covers while walking along the row.

As she pulled out a book to flip through it, she spied another book wretched into the back, and Emma reached for it to pull it out. There was nothing written on the cover and with some curiosity she opened it in the middle and gasped when her eyes fell on the pictures. She almost clapped it shut again, heat rushing to her cheeks, but her fascination won out and she looked more closely, flipping over page after page, her mouth falling opened in surprise about all variety of possibilities she'd never thought about before.

She just tilted her head to make out the mechanics of a seemingly very uncomfortable position when the door was yanked opened and Henry stormed in. Emma almost dropped the book to the floor, but she closed her fingers around it just in time, and was even able to shove it back on the shelf without drawing Henry's attention to it.

"Mommy, Mary Margaret is playing the piano." His small hand tugged at hers, pulling her towards the door. "Come dance with me, mommy."

Her eyes flickered back to the place where she'd put the book back into its hiding place, deciding to come back for it later. She might have to study it for a little while longer.

* * *

Dancing around with Henry relaxed Emma considerable, and she swirled around with him while Mary Margaret was playing the piano, but when the door opened and her husband stepped in, everything came back with a vengeance.

Her feelings for him, and the lewd pictures she'd seen in the book she'd discovered, and the air surrounding her suddenly felt too heavy to breathe in.

Killian was watching them from the side of the room until Mary Margaret stopped playing, his mouth tilting up into a smile as he joined them.

"Would you give me the next dance, milady?" he asked, holding out his hand to her. "We should practice before our first ball in London takes place."

A feeling of dread settled into her stomach as he mentioned London, but she took his hand nonetheless, ignoring the flutters the contact shoot through her body.

"I can't dance," Emma admitted quietly as he pulled her closer, a jolt of warmth snapping through her when Killian looked down at her with a rakish grin on his face.

"There's only one rule, love." His voice was a seductive rumble in her ear, making her well aware of how close he was standing to her, and how his scent enveloping her made the yearning in her body almost too painful to bear. "Pick a partner who knows what he's doing."

The mischievous glint in his eyes told her he wasn't only talking about dancing, but before she could think of a retort, he'd pulled her even closer and nodded to Mary Margaret.

Emma was lost when the first notes of a waltz echoed through the room and her husband swept her off her feet. He was right, she didn't need to do anything than letting him lead. He definitely knew what he was doing, and it was so easy to just relax in his arms and let herself enjoy the music, the feeling of his strong fingers enclosing hers, and the shift of his other hand against the small of her back.

And for a few precious minutes Emma forgot all her sorrows.

* * *

Emma was sitting on the bed in only her shift, waiting for Killian to join her. The feeling of uneasiness had come back the moment they'd stopped dancing; she still didn't know how she should handle her new discovered feelings for her husband, and the fear that she might lose him was bigger than ever.

The fact that they would go back to London very soon seemed to hang over her like a guillotine ready to fall. Emma feared that the moment they left the country everything would be different. She feared that everything would go back to the way before she opened up to Killian, that she'd lose what they'd built here, and that fear made her desperate.

If she was about to lose the connection they'd formed, she would enjoy every minute of the time they'd left. And maybe tonight she would finally conceive. Something she wished so desperate for.

Emma laid one hand on her stomach and wondered if it was the right time. Some part of her wanted to give birth to Killian's child so that he was bound to her at least in that way. She couldn't be sure of his love, but she could be sure he would love their child, and maybe that was all she should hope for. After all he married her to protect her and her son, in return she'd give him an heir. Falling in love hadn't been part of the contract, and she should be grateful for what they had, and not hope for more.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Killian stepped into the bedchamber, the smile on his face faltering when he looked at her, and Emma wondered if the desperation she visible on her face. A furrow of concern appeared between his brows as he stepped closer, but before he could say anything Emma held up the book she'd retrieved from the library after dinner, ready to put her plan into motion.

"I found something interesting."

His mouth dropped opened, and a blush rose up into his cheeks; he clearly recognized the book. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of hunger flashing over them, before he had himself under control again. "You shouldn't have seen this."

"You've experienced some of these … positions," Emma asked, wondering, not for the first time, how she was able to be so bold when it came to her husband and her bedroom manners.

"Some," he admitted after a few seconds of silence. His head tilted to the side as he eyed her, his gaze suddenly turning speculative. "Why? You want to try some out?"

"Yes," she burst out, retracting immediately when doubt flickered up in her. "No. I don't know."

She looked away from her husband's penetrating gaze, feeling the mattress dip as he sat down beside her. His fingers closed around her chin and he turned her face back around gently, dipping it up so that she had to meet his eyes again.

"Emma, you don't have to get adventurous for my sake," he said softly, his eyes full of understanding. "I love being with you. I don't need different positions. All I need is _you_." Her heart fluttered in her chest as he dropped his hand and linked his fingers with hers, squeezing her hand, and Emma was overwhelmed by a wave of love for her husband, the feeling pushing the air out of her lungs. She stared down at their entwined hands, and suddenly the reminder of one picture flickered through her mind. She inhaled a sharp breath, her fingers clenching Killian's and his voice sounded worried as he asked, "What? What is it, Emma?"

"I … There is ..." She felt completely flustered, but she'd studied that particular picture for minutes, and she let her hand slip out of Killian's grasp and reached for the book she'd dropped on the mattress, flipping through it with shaking fingers until she found was she was looking for, and turned the book towards Killian so he could see the picture. "Can we try this?" He stiffened when his eyes fell on the picture, and his jaw clenched so hard that a muscle twitched in his cheek, making her regret she'd asked. "We don't have to … I … just forget I asked."

"You want to render me completely helpless to your mercy?"

"Yes," she whispered, averting her gaze so that she didn't need to meet his gaze.

"God, Emma. You're trying to kill me here."

Her eyes snapped up to his, and he threw her a lopsided smirk before pushing her gently off the bed. He stood up himself, shed his clothes without saying another word and laid back down on the mattress, spreading his body out like it was shown in the picture.

"But be careful, love," he told her with a husky voice. "I've never tried this position before."

Emma's heart was almost beating out of her chest as she reached for the scarves she'd laid on the table in case he'd agree and climbed up on the bed beside him. Her breath quickened as she fastened one scarf around a bedpost and then around one of his wrists, making sure the bindings weren't too tight. She repeated the movements on his other side before turning around and securing his ankles in the same way.

"You all right?" Emma whispered as she turned to face him, astounded by her own bold behavior.

"Fine," Killian said, shifting on the mattress, drawing her attention back to his body.

Emma almost let out a sigh as she let her gaze travel over his nude form, her core starting to throb in the rhythm of her heartbeat. Her husband was a magnificent human being, all lean muscles and controlled strength, the proof of his arousal lying long and hard against his stomach; she wanted nothing more than to straddle him and take him deep into her body. A growl made her snap her eyes back to Killian's face, and her nipples tightened as he saw the lust shimmering in his eyes.

"Bloody hell, Emma," he rasped, yanking carefully at the bindings. His breath quickened visibly and his cock jerked when he realized that he could only move a few inches. "This is … oh my God."

The last words were uttered in a harsh whisper as she closed her fingers around his rigid length and started to pump him slowly while watching his face. Another wave of heat shot down between her legs when his eyes glazed over and little whimpers spilled over his lips.

"Emma?" he whined when she quickened the pace of her hand and tightened her grip, his hips bucking upwards into her touch.

She'd never used her mouth on him, but suddenly she wanted to, needed to know how he tasted, wanted to know how it felt to close her lips around his arousal, and so she leaned forward and just did it.

"Lord have mercy," Killian gasped, his whole body going rigid as he tried to stay still.

The pictures she'd seen in the book flickered over her closed eyelids and she slipped a hand between his legs, cupping his balls gently. He let out a guttural growl when she pulled his cock deeper into her mouth. She didn't know exactly what she should do, but apparently she was doing it right, Killian only hissing 'no teeth' before he let out another growl, and his hips jerked up from the mattress.

Emma licked and sucked at him like she wanted to, not worrying about doing it right anymore, only seeking her own pleasure, surprised about being so aroused by having his cock inside her mouth. She felt hot, her whole body aching for release, and she opened her knees wider, letting one hand slip down over her stomach; she'd seen women do that in the book, and wondered if she'd be able to find release without Killian's help.

"Let me taste you," Killian suddenly pleaded, his voice hoarse with lust, and Emma remembered in vivid details one particular picture where the woman was kneeling over the man, facing away from him, her mouth closed around his cock and the man's head between the woman's legs.

Emma hesitated only briefly before she let his cock slip out of her mouth and pulled her shift over her head. She straddled his chest, lowering herself slowly until she felt Killian's breath against her swollen folds.

"Closer," Killian barked, his voice husky with desperation and Emma obeyed immediately, feeling his scruff brush over her thighs before his mouth pressed against her most intimate part.

Emma moaned and rocked her hips against his face for a moment before leaning forward again, swirling her tongue around the head of his cock, and he rewarded her with a deep thrust of his tongue into her trembling sheath. He slipped his tongue in and out of her in a frantic pace and she groaned around him, feeling her walls clench in anticipation of the climax she knew wasn't far away.

But she wanted him to come with her so she sucked at him so hard that her cheeks hollowed out, and he growled against her folds, his tongue now lapping hungrily over her clit, making it almost impossible for her to concentrate on her task.

It probably was pure luck that a flick of his tongue against her most sensitive spot pushed her over the edge in the same moment a suck of her mouth made him come, and she swallowed reflexively when his release hit the back of her throat, her whole body trembling with her own climax as she took everything he could give her, sucking on his cock until he was spent completely.

His cock slipped out of her mouth, and she crashed down on him, her legs still straddling his chest. She felt his breath brush over her sensitive core, and her body was coming back alive with the gentle brush of air, but she was too exhausted to even move.

It took her a few moments until she realized that Killian was still tied to the bed and she scrambled up with some effort, untying him as fast as possible, sudden embarrassment heating her cheeks when she noticed that the bindings had left his skin bright red. Fortunately the skin wasn't broken, but she should probably bring him some salve to soothe it. But before she could flee into the bathroom she felt Killian's arms around her, tugging her towards him, and she laid down beside him without complaint, burying her face into his chest.

"This was incredible, love," he said softly, his voice a low rumble. "I can't even … You're incredible."

Emma pushed herself up to look at him, feeling a surge of pride rushing through her as she saw the sated expression on his face. But she'd apparently worn him out, because one moment he smiled at her and the next his eyes fell shut, his breathing evening out moments later.

Lifting one hand, she brushed a lock of his hair out of his face, her throat closing up with emotions as she looked down at her sleeping husband. Her hand trembled as she trailed her fingers down his cheek and throat, letting her hand rest over his heart for a moment before she leaned forward and brushed her lips over Killian's cheek. Her throat hurt with the effort to hold the words in, but in the end she lost the fight, and the words slipped over her lips in a hoarse whisper, "I love you."


	14. Chapter 14

A week later Emma was standing in Ruby's drawing room, waiting for her friend to come down, trying not to wish she would be back in the country. They hadn't even been in London for more than one day, but Emma already missed the country dreadfully. Killian had been gone most of the days there, too, but it had somehow felt different as when he left her here in London. Maybe because she'd never wondered what he was doing while they were at his estate. Here she wondered who he might see, the thought of his former mistress making her stomach churn, the fear Neal might attack him in a dark alley at any time making her heart race in her chest.

She'd felt so free with him while still feeling completely safe, but here in London the pressure of the ton was already weighing her down, the fear of Milah and Neal's plans so much more palpable, and the months in the country seemed to be more like a dream than reality.

"Emma!" Ruby rushed into the room, and Emma was enveloped in a tight embrace when her friend pulled her into her arms. "It seems like I haven't seen you in forever."

"I was only away for a few months," Emma replied, forcing herself to smile, noticing that it was easier than she expected. She'd missed Ruby.

Her friend pushed her back to scrutinize her, her mouth tilting up into a broad smile a few seconds later. "But a lot happened in those months, I see."

Emma felt her cheeks reddening with embarrassment as she wondered if it was so obvious that Killian and she had consummated their marriage. "There is nothing to see."

"You look happy, Emma," Ruby said softly, her fingers squeezing Emma's gently. "Really happy."

"I am. Killian ..." Emma's heart jumped as she said his name, and her mouth curled up into a smile on its own as warmth flooded through her only thinking about him. "He is a wonderful husband."

"In every way?" Ruby asked, cocking one eyebrow, the glint in her eyes telling Emma what her friend was thinking about.

Her cheeks probably reddened even more, but she stiffened her shoulders and met her friends gaze, suppressing the sudden urge to let out a giggle. "Yes. In every way."

Ruby pulled her into her arms again, hugging her tightly to her chest. "That's great, Emma. You deserve all the happiness this world can give you."

Emma closed her eyes as she felt tears welling up, and as she tightened her grip around her friend she realized that she really found happiness with her husband, and she wouldn't let anyone take it away from her.

* * *

Killian hated to be back again, hated to smell the oppressive scent of London's streets instead of the clear, crisp air of the country, hated that the time he'd spent with Emma there seemed like a dream now, as if the stale air of London had thrown a gray blanket over their happiness. He knew it was complete foolishness to think that way, but being in London with Emma just felt different. She'd closed up on their way here, as if she needed to put up walls to deal with the ugliness that awaited them in London. He didn't want her to draw up walls, he wanted her as free and happy as she seemed to be in the country. But as long as Neal and Milah posed a threat the happiness was not more than an illusion, and he needed to deal with it as soon as possible.

Sighing out loud, Killian rubbed one hand over his face. He was tired, felt completely weary. He wished he could just stay with Emma all day, wanted to pull her into bed and never get up again. Maybe he should have left her back in the country, though. Maybe bringing her to London with him was a mistake. But he came to know his wife quite well over the last months, and he was certain if he'd suggested she should stay she would have ripped his head off. But that still didn't mean she wasn't drawing back into a shell right in front of his eyes. He wasn't even sure if she still wanted to share her bed with him. It all just felt so bloody different here. He didn't know what to expect, and it was driving him insane.

"Welcome back, Jones."

Killian hadn't heard Robin stepping into the room, but he was glad his frantic thoughts were interrupted by his friend, and he turned around to him, forcing a smile on his face. "Locksley."

Robin only cocked an eyebrow at him before walking over to the decanter and pouring out two glasses of wine. Killian didn't even protest against it, after all it was not even noon yet, because he desperately needed the drink.

"You look like shit, mate," Robin told him as he gave him one glass.

Killian lifted it to his mouth immediately to take a sip, savoring the bouquet for a moment before swallowing. Robin was eyeing him with some scrutiny, and Killian's shoulders sagged. It wasn't as if he was able to hide anything from his friend, and it wasn't as if there was really a need to hide his desperation from him.

"I wish I could leave London for good," Killian said, twirling the glass around in his hand. "I wish I could just take Emma and stay in the country forever."

"But you can't," Robin replied after a moment of silence, his friend's voice full of understanding. "At least not yet."

"Right." Killian straightened his shoulders again, telling himself this was not the time to have a pity party. It he wanted to bring the lightness back into Emma's life he needed to fight for it. "Unfortunately we can't hide forever, Robin. We need to deal with Neal and Milah. I need to draw them out sooner or later. I need to end this once and for all, and we still don't have anything substantial against them in our hands."

"What's your plan?"

"Attack is the best form of defense. Let's draw them out."

"The Comerford ball?"

"Yes, it'll do. We need to be seen."

Killian didn't like it, but it was necessary. He couldn't keep looking over his shoulder every time he stepped on the street. The Comerford ball was the best way to show everyone that they were back in London, and the gossip would do the rest. Neal and Milah would hear they were back, and hopefully they'd make a move.

* * *

Emma knew why they were here, Killian had explained it to her, but she still didn't feel comfortable with so many people around her, everyone eyeing her either with hardly veiled curiosity or not so subtle contempt. She didn't belong among them, and most of the people present let her know that they didn't appreciate Killian marrying her. They were shunning her with slightly arched eyebrows or by blatantly ignoring her.

Emma didn't mind that much since she didn't feel as if she belonged here either, and being back in London made her question if the months she'd spent with Killian in the country meant as much to him as they meant to her. She'd fallen in love with her husband over the last months, but she didn't know if he was feeling the same way.

It didn't help that Killian had been so occupied over the last days that he'd only come home when she was already fast asleep, and he was always already out of bed when she woke up. She missed feeling him inside of her, more than she ever thought she could. Being intimate with a man had always been forced on her, but with Killian it was so different. Now she wanted to share her body quite willingly, actually she didn't feel completely content if she didn't feel his body pressing against hers under the sheets.

She wanted that back. But to have that back they needed to deal with Neal and Milah, hence their being here.

The chatter around her was making her head throb, and the smile she was forced to keep on her face at all times was making her jaw ache. Killian had excused himself for a moment, and Emma knew she shouldn't feel as if he'd left her helpless in a throng of sharks, but she still felt her heart pick up speed.

But then her eyes fell on Baron Backhurst who was only standing a few feet away, and the tension in her shoulders eased a little when he met her gaze and smiled. She'd met her husband's best friend two days ago and felt herself liking him at once. His presence so near to her meant Killian had told him to keep an eye on her while he was occupied elsewhere, and she was grateful for her husband's foresight, even if the possibility of her coming to harm in the middle of dozens of people was very slim.

Emma relaxed slightly, actually starting to enjoy watching the people around her. The music vibrated in her bones, and she couldn't wait for Killian to join her again so that they could enjoy another dance together.

But every ounce of lightness evaporated as she let her gaze wander of the crowd in the ball room and her eyes met the gaze of a man she was hoping to never see again. A cold shiver ran down her spine, and dark spots appeared in front of her eyes. Her chest suddenly felt too tight, and sweat broke out all over her skin. She expected to faint any moment, her heart galloping in her chest, her pulse racing. But then a hand closed around her arm and a familiar voice reached her ear.

"Emma? Everything all right?"

She took in some deep breaths, forcing herself to turn away and look at her husband standing beside her. Just seeing him helped her push back the panic, and she curled her hand over his, needing the connection.

"He is here," she whispered, the words barely loud enough to carry over the music.

"Who is here?" Killian asked, his expression worried as he let his gaze flicker over her face. Emma swallowed hard, trying to get the word past the lump in her throat, but she just couldn't say his name. But apparently Killian noticed her distress and realized that only one man was able to cause that reaction, and his eyes hardened. "Neal?"

Emma nodded sharply before falling against Killian, burying her face in his chest for one moment and when she looked up again she couldn't see Neal anymore. She didn't let herself look around; she didn't want to see his face again. What was he even doing here? How did he get in?

Her hands felt clammy now, and her legs started to tremble with the aftershocks of her panic. She needed to get out of here before she'd cause a ruckus by dropping to the ground after all.

"I need to go home, Killian," she breathed, leaning instinctively into the warmth of her husband.

His arm wrapped around her waist, his lips brushing over her forehead. "Of course, love."

* * *

Killian ripped his neckcloth open, feeling anger surge through him as he walked briskly towards the library. He'd wanted to plant his fist in the other man's face, wanted to hunt him down and beat him until he begged for mercy. But bringing Emma home had been his primal concern, and he'd pulled Robin into a short conversation to make sure his friend would keep an eye on Neal before leading Emma out of the house.

She'd been shaking when he'd helped her into the carriage, her eyes huge with fright, and he hadn't tried to touch her, afraid she would flinch away from him. The ride had gone by in complete silence, and Emma had rushed into the house the instant the carriage came to a stop in front of it.

Killian had dealt with the servants, dismissing them as soon as possible, eager to be at Emma's side. He'd seen her vanish into the library, and just wanted to join her. But when he reached the door he hesitated, not sure how to proceed, how to handle the situation.

Killian hated that he hadn't been able to spend more time with Emma, but the moment he'd put one foot into his London house he'd been pulled in five different directions, a ton of people needing things from him, and most of the times he couldn't even think clearly anymore when he stepped into their bedchamber in the middle of the night, and all he was able to do was shedding his clothes and slipping under the sheets, pulling Emma into his arms and dropping off to sleep immediately.

He missed feeling the connection with Emma; she'd withdrawn from him and he didn't really know how to get close to her again. He wanted to help her, but didn't know how. Though standing outside of the library would definitely not help her. Taking in a deep breath, he opened the door.

She was standing beside the small table that was carrying the decanters, her hand curled around a glass of amber liquid. She never drank any harder liquor than wine, and his heart went out to her. He stepped to her side slowly, aware of every single one of her movements. He expected her to put distance between them, expected her eyes still full of fear, but when she turned to him her eyes were blazing with desire. Her glass clinked on the table and a moment later her small hands pressed against his chest and she pushed him backwards until his knees hit the end of the settee and he fell on it. She was in his lap a blink of an eye later, her lips crushing down on his and kissing him hungrily, her fingers already busy opening his shirt.

He gasped into her mouth when her fingers splayed out on his chest, her nails digging into his skin as her hips rocked against him, making his cock ache with the need to be inside her. She'd never attacked him like that before, and he didn't think it was a good sign. The part of his brain that was still working told him he shouldn't let her have her way with him after Neal's appearance at the ball had shocked her to her bones. He knew he should stop her, that this wasn't the way to soothe her anguish.

"Emma? Love, we should ..."

"I can't wait," Emma murmured against his lips, pushing down to press her core harder against his erection, clearly not willing to let him go.

Killian prayed that Barnes wouldn't choose to come check on them once more. His butler was unpredictable in that way, but he sent him to bed and hoped the man actually went. His wife obviously was eager to ride him right here in the library, and he couldn't find the strength to withstand the temptation.

His breeches were opened by her nimble fingers before he could even try to form a protest. She pulled his cock out and let out a soft sigh against his lips as her hand closed around him. He was a slave to her needs and his hands moved by themselves, his fingers clenching around the fabric of her dress and pulling it up until she was able to press her wet core against him. Her grip tightened around his cock for a moment before she let out a huff of annoyance and pushed up on her knees. When she lowered her body again he slipped inside her, her warm heat enveloping him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding on to him as she leaned back, her hips pumping back and forth to draw him in and out of her hot sheath, and a wave of lust crashed over him, his hands nearly ripping her dress apart as he pulled it down to reveal her breasts to his hungry mouth. He was licking and sucking at her peaks until she mewled and her movements atop of him became erratic.

He was so close to losing it, tensing every muscle in his body to keep from coming before her. He felt her nails digging into his shoulders, moans spilling over her lips as he sucked at her nipple harder. She apparently needed to find release as much as he did, and he wrapped one arm around her tightly and slipped his hand between their bodies. Her dress was in the way, and he let out a frustrated groan when he couldn't get to where he wanted to be right away. He fought his way through the fabric while Emma was keeping up the frantic pace, and finally he was able to touch her, her groan reverberating through the room as his finger found her bundle of nerves. Her walls started to flutter around him, and it only took a few flicks of his finger to push her over the edge. It was the only thing he needed and he buried his face in her neck letting out a growl as he spurted his release into her, his hips bucking up from the settee to bury himself even deeper in her as the climax rolled over him.

He came back to his senses as he felt her shiver against him, and he pulled back slowly, slipping out of her as he pushed her back gently. He helped her stand up on her feet, his own legs feeling slightly shaky as he stood up himself, and his hands trembled as he righted his clothes before putting hers in order again. Emma was standing stock still, her eyes huge while her chest was still heaving with ragged breaths, and he suppressed a few curse words, scolding himself for letting it go so far.

Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her out of the library and up the stairs, feeling relief sweeping through him as she nestled into him and her body relaxed. She didn't say anything when he put her back on the ground before their bed, but her eyes had lost that vacant look. Now she only looked tired and sated, and she even gave him a soft smile when he took her clothes off and pulled her nightshift over her head.

He discarded his own clothes as fast as possible, just letting them drop on the ground, only leaving his drawers on before joining Emma in bed. She turned around immediately, seeking body contact and he pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair, overwhelmed by emotions.

Her hand curled into his chest hair, and her lips ghosted over his neck as she murmured, "Thank you."

Killian didn't know what she was thanking him for exactly, but it didn't really matter. She was in his arms, save and unharmed. That's what mattered.

"You're safe, love," he whispered, wanting to say so much more. But this was not the time to explain his undying love, especially since he didn't know how she felt about him. So he'd just make sure that she felt safe. He could give her at least that right now. "He'll never hurt you again."


	15. Chapter 15

A tickling sensation along her neck woke her up the next morning, and Emma leaned instinctively into the body behind her.

"Good morning, love."

"Good morning indeed."

She didn't know how he managed to accomplish it every time, but no matter how frightened she felt he always pulled her away from the precipice of the abyss she feared she'd fall into and made her forget everything for a few precious moments.

Like right now.

They needed to talk about last night, needed to talk about how they should go on. How they could make certain Neal couldn't harm any of them. But his lips were so distracting.

"Should we take another look at the book?" he murmured against her skin, and a shiver ran down her spine as the possibilities ran through her mind.

Killian's teeth scraped over her shoulder and then his tongue darted out, licking the spot he'd just tortured with his teeth.

"No need." She shifted so that her back was fully pressed against his chest, his already very prominent erection nestled against her ass. Slipping her leg over his, she opened herself up to him, and his hand immediately wandered down her stomach, his fingers dancing over her already damp folds, and her voice was barely more than a whisper as she breathed, "We're trying that one."

She closed her eyes as he started to tease her entrance, his fingers only skimming over where she wanted him most. He taunted her with those featherlight touches he'd perfected, touches that drove her mad with the need to feel him slip inside of her throbbing core.

"Killian, please."

His fingers disappeared from between her legs and she mewled in protest, his deep chuckle only heightening her arousal. Emma was trembling with need by now, and he apparently noticed that she was hanging on to the last tethers of her patience. His hand slipped around her thigh and pulled her leg up even higher, a shift of his hips and then she finally felt his hard length nudging at her entrance.

A moment later he pushed into her completely and she let out a sigh of relief. Her arm snaked back, her fingers threading through the hair at the base of his neck, using her hold as an anchor as he rocked against her.

He pulled out, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness for a few seconds, before he filled her again. Over and over again. In a slow pace that was pushing her even higher. She writhed against him, needed more. Needed to find release.

"I love being in you, Emma," Killian rasped into her ear, his thrusts becoming faster. "Filling you up. Making you moan. Making you beg."

One hand closed around her breast, his fingers tugging gently at her erect nipple while his other hand trailed down her stomach, stopping inches from the spot that was throbbing with the need to be touched.

"Please," Emma whimpered, a sob of relief almost escaping her as he finally touched her there.

"You're a vision, love." The sensations were all encompassing, his fingers around her breast, between her legs, his cock pushing deep into her with each thrust. She was falling apart in his arms, her body starting to tremble as she got closer and closer to the final release, his voice alone almost causing her to fall over the edge. "There's nothing more beautiful than watching you come."

Another flick of his fingers, another deep thrust and Emma tumbled over, her climax gripping him hard, causing his own. Shivers of pleasure were still running over her skin when Killian pressed his face into her neck, his body shaking against hers as he reveled in the afterglow with her, and only one thought floated through Emma's mind as she intertwined her fingers with his.

_I love you. God, I love you so much._

* * *

Sitting outside, watching Henry play in the grass, Emma remembered the last time she'd been with Killian. It had been three days ago, and her body constantly ached for his touch. But no matter how much she longed for him, the fear was never leaving her completely.

They'd talked about what they should do about Neal and Milah for hours, and Emma didn't really like the plan. Killian was trying to make himself a target, and even so Robin and his friends were shadowing her husband the moment he stepped out of the house, she wasn't convinced they'd be able to keep him completely out of harm's way.

Her nights were spent in fear of what might happen to Killian, her sleep restless when she couldn't keep her eyes opened any longer. She only ever relaxed when he stumbled into the room with the first rays of the sun permeating the curtains. But he was always too exhausted to do more than brush his lips over her mouth before he dropped into a deep sleep.

Emma now only left the house when she absolutely needed to, she just didn't feel safe out on the streets. Ruby was visiting almost every day, making the time pass faster when Emma had nothing else to do than worry about Killian. Every time Barnes stepped into the room to announce visitors, her heart plummeted into her stomach, fearing he might deliver bad news.

She just wished that it'd be already all behind them. That they could live their life free of threads. That they could explore their intimacy further. That she could finally find the courage to tell him she loved him.

* * *

Milah watched the woman Killian was married to from her hiding place behind some bushes. She might have wanted Killian dead at first, but she'd realized that she wanted him in her bed more. Neal would see reason eventually, after she'd gotten Killian back and secured that the money would keep flowing. Since Killian was still paying her bills she was confident that he'd come back to her eventually. She just needed to push him a little. And what better way to do that then to spread doubt in his wife's mind.

* * *

A rustle in the bushes jerked Emma out of her thoughts, and she swiveled her head towards the sound. As her eyes fell on the strange woman approaching her, her heart froze in her chest. Emma was already up and hurrying towards Henry when the woman's words halted her in her mad rush towards her son. "I'm Milah."

Emma's heart seemed to come to a sudden stop as she turned her head slowly to face the woman. Milah? Killian's former mistress? Why was she here?

A ball of dread settled in the pit of Emma's stomach as she stared at the woman Killian had shared a bed with. She was way older than Emma, but she still was a beauty, and a flash of jealousy jolted through her as she realized that the woman standing in front of her had intimate knowledge of her husband.

"We don't want to frighten the boy, do we?" Milah asked with a saccharine voice that made Emma's skin crawl. "I just need a minute of your time."

Emma nodded and walked back to the bench she'd been sitting on. A part of her was curious about the reason of Milah's visit, and since Emma didn't think Milah would try to harm her only steps away from the house she was waiting, with not a small amount of trepidation, for the other woman to speak.

"You'll never be enough for him." The malice in Milah's voice made Emma jerk back, and she wanted to jump up, wanted to leave the woman behind, but something was keeping her rooted to the spot. She needed to hear what she had to say. "Did you really believe you could hold him? He acted like a man almost starved to death as he came to me last night. He can't get from you what he needs. He can only get that from me. You might be his wife, but I'm the only one who can satisfy his needs." Emma didn't believe it, Killian wouldn't betray her. She was sure of that. But Milah's words still caused a flicker of doubt to take root deep in her heart. "If you care about him at all, you'll let him go. You've got what you wanted. His protection. Don't force him to stop seeing me. He obviously can't, and the guilt about not being able to keep his promises to you will rip him apart eventually. You'll destroy him." The words felt like a slap across her face, and Emma balled her hands into fists to keep them from trembling. "Is that what you want? Do you want a broken man?"

"I ..." Emma didn't even know what to say, Milah's words were burning a painful hole into her heart. But then the anger won out for a moment, and Emma stood up from the bench, looking down at the woman with what she hoped was a snobbish expression. "Leave the grounds immediately, or I'll call for help. And just to make one thing clear … I will let my husband know about your visit. He'll not be pleased."

"Very well. Force him to lie to you then." Milah stood up slowly, her mouth curling with a condescending smile as she continued, "I was hoping you'll see reason. I was hoping he means something to you. But obviously that's not the case. I'll take my leave now."

Emma's whole body was shaking with fury as she watched the other woman step onto the boardwalk and disappear around the corner. She shouldn't have listened to her. What did he expect to hear? A scorned woman wasn't prone to praise her former lover, or have any genuine feelings towards the woman who was sharing his bed now.

Emma didn't want to believe what Milah had said about Killian, but the words had brought back all her insecurities and now she was questioning everything again. Maybe she had it all wrong, maybe Killian was really only coming to her bed until she was pregnant with his child. Maybe she just wanted to see things that weren't there.

Emma needed to think. She needed space. She just couldn't face Killian as long as her mind was a jumbled mess. Reaching a decision, she turned around to Henry, calling him to her. It was time for them to go back to the country for a little while.

* * *

Emma was letting out a deep sigh when she finally settled into the cushions of the carriage; it had been a tedious affair to convince Barnes to get the carriage ready for them without giving Killian notice. But in the end she was the duchess, and after she reminded Barnes of that he'd just nodded sharply and left to convey her orders. Henry had been excited when she told him; he loved going back to the stables and the freer life of the country, though he'd asked her if Killian would join them soon since they surely should be with him on his birthday.

Emma had just smiled and assured Henry that Killian would join them soon, but her heart had been heavy in her chest, because it was possible that she'd told her son a lie. Killian might not follow them if what Milah had told her was true; her husband might be happy that Emma was out of the way so that he could spend time with his mistress whenever he wanted to.

She still didn't want to believe it, but she couldn't banish the doubts. No matter how hard she tried.

The ride to Killian's estate was uneventful; Emma even managed to doze off from time to time, but her mind was still frazzled as she stepped out of the carriage. She felt completely shaken up, and when she stepped into the kitchen and saw Mary Margaret standing at the stove she almost couldn't keep it together any longer.

Mary Margaret took one look at her face and crouched down in front of Henry, telling him that David was training a new horse and sending him off to the stables. Emma's shoulders sagged when Henry stormed out of the house with an excited shriek, the door slamming shut behind him. For a few moments there was complete silence in the room until Emma turned her head and met Mary Margaret's gaze. A sob tore through Emma's throat and a moment later she was enveloped by Mary Margaret's arms, the other woman pulling her close.

"Shhh, honey," Mary Margaret murmured close to Emma's ear. "Everything is going to be fine."

But Emma's heart was full of doubt as the tears were just spilling out of her. Mary Margaret kept stroking her hand up and down Emma's back, the woman's soothing voice making the feeling of loss just more intense. The loss of something she never had to begin with.

Nothing would be fine. She was in love with Killian, and he didn't love her back.


	16. Chapter 16

Killian's stomach growled as he stepped into the house, reminding him that he had hardly eaten anything today. But food was not on the top of his list right now. He wanted Emma. He wanted to fall into her arms and let her take away all the sorrows for a few hours. He needed her. He missed being enveloped by her heat, missed forgetting the world around them when their bodies joined.

He was already ascending the stairs, eager to join his wife in bed when his butler's voice stopped him.

"Your Grace?"

"Not now, Barnes." Killian turned around, trying to keep the annoyance he felt out of his voice as he stared down at his butler. "It has to wait until tomorrow."

"This can't wait until tomorrow, Sir."

Something in Barnes' voice made him step down into the hall again, dread coiling in his stomach as he saw the worried expression on his butler's face.

"I'm certain you want to know that Her Grace has left the house a few hours ago. Her destination was your estate, Sir. She'd reminded me of my duties as I refused to ready a carriage for her, but I sent Curtis with a note for you the moment she stepped into the carriage. He apparently didn't find you, though."

"What do you mean Emma left the house?" Killian snapped, fear and anger colliding inside of him. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," Barnes replied, his back ramrod straight as he tried to explain the circumstances to Killian. "Mrs. Price informed me that she'd seen a woman talking to Her Grace in the gardens, but before she could send someone out there to tell the woman to leave the premises she'd already left on her own. When Her Grace asked to see me when she came in from the gardens she was clearly upset. I wanted to stop her, but she didn't want to stay, no matter what I said. So I readied the carriage for Henry and her, and sent Grove and Harris with her for protection."

It wouldn't help anyone if he barked at his butler, so Killian reigned in his temper and said in a calm voice, "Sent Mrs. Price to me immediately."

"Yes, Sir."

Killian had a growing suspicion who the woman might have been, he just needed the cook to tell him how the woman looked like to confirm it.

* * *

He had to wait until the morning to go after her, pushing Devil to his limits as they flew over the roads. Killian hadn't slept at all last night, fighting with the urge to seek out Milah and wring her neck. He almost gave in, but going after Emma was more important. He needed to make sure she was safe. Needed to know what lies Milah had told her that caused her to flee to the country without even talking to him first.

Dark clouds were billowing over the sky, and the wind was picking up; he just hoped it wouldn't start raining until he arrived at his estate. Muddy roads would slow them down considerably, but it was as if Devil sensed the urgency, not showing even one sign of fatigue the whole way. The stallion's body was slick with sweat when Killian reined him in as they finally reached the estate, and he clapped his hand against the stallion's neck, murmuring words of praise before he gave the reins over to a stable boy and rushed into the house.

His feet carried him towards the kitchen; he knew Mary Margaret would know where Emma was, and she didn't even act surprised as he burst into the room, only raising one eyebrow as he barked, "Where is my wife?"

"In the pavilion," Mary Margaret replied with a nonchalance that made Killian grit his teeth, but he didn't have the time to start an argument; he just swirled around and rushed out of the back door, the wind ripping the door out of his hand and slamming it shut behind him, the sound strangely satisfying.

"Of course," Killian growled as the gates of heaven opened up as he crossed the lawn, and the rain pelting down soaked through his clothes in seconds. Not that he cared. The anger that rolled off him in waves would probably dry them in no time.

He wondered if you could actually see steam coming out of his ears caused by the fury that coursed through him as he stepped into the pavilion, a faint feeling of satisfaction zipping through him when Emma's eyes fell on him and she gasped in surprise.

"Killian, what are you ..."

He didn't even give her the time to finish the question. He was too angry with her. "What did she tell you?"

Emma took a step back, her brows furrowing in confusion. But only for a moment, until she realized what he was talking about. Then she looked guilty, and hurt. Though her shoulders straightened as she met his gaze again, her voice only wavering slightly as she answered him, "That you went back to her. That I could never … that I'm not enough for you."

Emma's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the sight squeezing his heart, and all the anger he'd felt about Emma leaving him without a word evaporated instantly. All he wanted to do now was pull her into his arms and assure her that Milah's words didn't hold one ounce of truth.

"Do you remember Pride and Prejudice?" Killian asked softly, stepping closer until he could reach up and cup Emma's cheek. He brushed his thumb over her mouth, felt the tremble of her lips under his finger as he continued, "Elizabeth believed the things Wickham told her about Darcy without listening to the other side of the story." Emma leaned into his touch, her eyes hopeful as she stared up at him. He felt her hands slip under his jacket as if she couldn't help herself and needed to touch him, and a smile pulled his lips up. Suddenly everything seemed so clear. It was time to erase any doubt in her mind. "You made the same mistake, love. You believed the viper, believed the man who is madly in love with you would betray you like that." Her eyes widened in surprise, her nails bit into his skin as she curled her hands against his stomach, and the words he wanted to tell her for so long came surprisingly easy now. "I love you, Emma. With all my heart."

And then he kissed her, pressing his lips on hers and kissing her with a ferocity that even surprised him. She gasped under the assault of his mouth, but her body pressed against his; clearly she didn't care that his clothes were soaking wet as her hips rocked against him. His cock sprang to attention in an instant, demanding of him to take her right here and there. But he was able to retain a modicum of sense, though it was a close call.

The rain had stopped when he lifted her into his arms and carried her back into the house. He prayed that no servants would have the audacity to step in his way, but fortunately no one tried to stop them and they reached their bedchamber without being held up.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, not letting Emma down until they stood in front of the bed. His hands were clumsy as he helped her out of her clothes while his mouth was glued to hers, their lips not parting until he needed to step back to pull her shift over her head. She was finally naked and Killian sighed as his hands closed around her perky breasts, his whole body zinging with want as she moaned when his fingers tugged at her erect nipples.

"My birthday isn't until Sunday, but can I have my birthday present already now?" Killian asked a little breathless while his fingers traveled down her stomach.

"I'm not your present," Emma breathed, another moan slipping over her lips as he parted her folds and slipped one finger into her welcoming heat.

"Then you can look at it as penance for leaving me without a word. Without hearing my side of the story." He let his finger slide in and out of her slowly, watching the myriad of expressions that flittered over her face for a few moments before he withdrew his finger and asked softly, "Do you trust me, Emma?"

She gave him the answer without hesitation. "Yes."

"Good." He pressed his lips on her forehead for a brief kiss before he pointed to the bed and told her with a firm voice, "Lay down on the bed, hands above your head, and keep them there."

She stared at him wide-eyed for a few seconds before she gulped hard and followed his instructions. He saw her pulse beat rapidly as she met his gaze, her body splayed out over the sheet, and lust coursed through his whole body, making his voice hoarse as he gave her another command, "Now spread your legs for me, love. Let me see how much you want me."

She obeyed immediately and Killian let his eyes roam over her body, drinking in her beauty, while he pulled off his wet clothes as fast as possible. He ruffled his fingers through his hair to remove the residual droplets of water still clinging to it, and then he joined Emma on the bed, lying down between her thighs.

He saw her chest heave with her erratic breathing out of the corner of his eyes, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the welcoming sight in front of him. Her pink folds, wet with her arousal.

"First I'm gonna feast on you until you scream my name."

Emma let out a whimper when he leaned forward and buried his face between her thighs, breathing in the sweet scent of her arousal greedily before letting himself taste it. He licked and sucked at her until she started to squirm, jabbing his tongue into her with sharp thrusts until she writhed against him, her hips arching away from the mattress as she pushed her core against his face as if she couldn't get enough of his tongue fucking her.

"Killian, please."

Her hips were gyrating against his mouth, but her hands still rested above her head, her fingers clenching and unclenching. She obviously needed him to make her come, and since she'd complied without even trying once to reach for him he decided he'd tortured her long enough. He pushed his arms against her legs, opening her up even wider for him and reached for her folds, pulling them apart with his fingers so that he could have easy access.

Leaning forward, he let his tongue slip into her again for a few thrusts, then he pulled out and lapped at the arousal coating her folds, then a flick over her clit, and back to fucking her with his tongue. She was moaning and gasping by now, his name tumbling over her lips every few seconds as he pushed her closer and closer. A shift of his hand to press his middle finger against her most sensitive spot, another jab of his tongue deep into her slick sheath and Emma exploded under his mouth. Her walls fluttered around his tongue as he kept going, pushing his tongue in and out of her until she sagged back into the mattress, completely spent.

He licked his lips when he pushed up, his cock pounding painfully, eager to thrust into her heat. He lowered himself slowly atop of her, saw the flicker of panic, and stopped immediately. He wasn't touching her anywhere, keeping himself up on his hands and knees, only hovering over her. But Emma's breath quickened again, and not with pleasure this time. She closed her eyes and turned her head, her hands started to tremble, and even though his cock was ready to explode he didn't make a move.

"Open your eyes, love." Killian kept his voice calm and soothing, but stayed where he was, waiting for her to look at him again. Her body practically vibrated with her inner struggle, but in the end his courageous wife won the fight and her jaw tightened for a brief moment before she forced herself to open her eyes again and look up at him. "You all right?" A quiver went through her, but her eyes didn't leave his. "It's me, Emma. It's me. I will never hurt you." The breath left her chest on a relieved sigh, and her body relaxed visibly, her hands flexing against the pillow and he whispered, "Touch me."

He kept completely still as her hands reached for his arms, her fingers tickling over his skin as she let them ghost up and over his shoulders, her fingers splaying out as she trailed her hands down over his chest, stopping shy of touching him where he yearned for her fingers the most.

His blood was pounding in his veins, and his cock jerked as the tip of her fingers brushed against him. He felt her arousal coating his cock as she lifted her hips a little, and he drew in a sharp breath, his balls tightening as he tried desperately not to come before even being inside of her.

"Killian?" He hadn't even realized that he'd closed his eyes until she said his name, and he snapped his eyes opened. She was looking up at him with so much trust in her eyes, and her fingers didn't stop caressing his skin what made it even more difficult to keep himself from pushing into her. One of her hands came up to his face, her fingers cupped his cheek, her voice barely audible as she breathed, "I'm ready when you are."

"You sure?" he asked, wondering if he could keep himself back if she'd say no. But she didn't say no, she just nodded.

Putting his weight on one hand, he reached for his cock, pushing it down to position it at her entrance. He hesitated for a brief moment, but Emma closed her fingers around his waist and pulled him forward. He slipped slowly into her, groaning loudly as her heat enveloped him inch by inch, as he kept pushing deeper into her until he was buried until the hilt.

He wanted to hold himself upright, didn't want to put too much weight on her, didn't want to crush her. But his arms were shaking with the strain, and the muscles in his ass and thighs were trembling with the effort to hold back.

"I won't break," she whispered, her nails scraping over his back, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

"Emma, I ..." He rocked slowly against her, forcing himself to only thrust shallowly in and out of her. "I can't … I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"I want to be gentle with you. I don't want to ..."

"I don't want you to be gentle."

All the blood left his brain and rushed south, the need to pound into her mercilessly filled his balls to the bursting point. "God, love. I ..."

"I trust you."

Her soft spoken words were his undoing, his body taking what she asked of him, his thrusts becoming deeper and faster. But a part of his brain was still functioning despite the cloud of lust addling his mind and he kept the leash on, barely able to restrain the beast inside him as he quickened the pace of his thrusts even more.

But Emma obviously wasn't satisfied, her voice taking on a commanding tone as she cried out with each of his thrusts. "More. Harder. Faster."

He tried to resist her frantic demands but in the end he snapped. Though he forced his eyes to stay opened to watch her while he took her with deep and hard thrusts. He needed to watch for any signs that she didn't enjoy what he was doing to her.

But he saw none. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed as moans and whimpers spilled over her lips while her hips met his with each thrust, and he fell forward on his elbows, her nails digging deep into his skin, leaving sharp points of pain behind as he slapped his hips against hers, pounding into her without any finesse.

He'd never let go off his control like this ever before, but Emma was spurring him on with mumbled words, and when he shifted atop of her so that he could hit her even deeper she let out a guttural moan, her body tensing under his for a moment before she groaned, "God, Killian. I'm coming … I'm ..."

Her walls contracted around him, her orgasm triggering his own and he snapped his hips forward one last time before letting go. Her walls were milking his cock dry, the force of his climax making him see stars, and he couldn't keep himself from crashing down on Emma afterwards, his heart beating so hard in his chest that he feared it might jump out of it any moment.

He was still struggling to come down from his high as he felt tremors run over Emma's body. He cursed loudly and pushed back, slipping out of her in an instant, fearing the worst. He'd wanted to help her overcome one of her last demons, but maybe it had been too soon. Maybe he'd pushed her into doing something she didn't want to do just yet.

He scrambled off her without meeting her eyes, wanting to slap himself silly. If he'd hurt her he would never forgive himself.

"This was ..." He looked up when he heard her whispered words, expecting fear and disgust on her face, but what he found took his breath away. Her eyes were glowing, a smile curling her mouth upwards as she met his gaze. "Indescribable."

A weight dropped from his shoulders, relief washing over him. He didn't hurt her, he didn't push her too soon. She looked completely sated and satisfied, and he shot her a lopsided smirk as she stretched herself like a cat, the smile still adorning her face.

"That good, huh?"

"Yes, that good."

Her satisfied smile warmed him all over, and he leaned down to give her a thorough kiss before slumping down beside her and pulling her into his arms. He should probably get up to clean himself up and bring Emma a towel, but he felt too tired to leave the bed just yet.

Emma curled up against him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, and he decided to hold her in his arms like that just a little longer before getting up. But he'd obviously worn her out because moments later she relaxed against him and her breath evened out. He didn't want to wake her up by leaving the bed, so he just leaned to the side until he could reach the sheets to pull them up.

He was still smiling as he skimmed his fingers over her shimmering hair, knowing he had to let go off her eventually, if only briefly, to blow out the candles. But for now he just wanted to watch the candle light flickering over her relaxed features, wanted to revel in the feeling of having her in his arms.

He loved her so much.

A sharp pain came out of nowhere, hitting him square in the chest as he recalled their moment in the pavilion. He told her he loved her. He opened his heart to her, laid it down at her feet, laid himself completely bare. He told her he was madly in love with her and she didn't say it back.


	17. Chapter 17

Sleep was still clouding Emma's mind the next morning when Killian brushed his lips over her forehead, his voice a distant mumble, telling her she should stay in bed. But she didn't fall asleep again, she just kept her eyes closed while listening to Killian rummaging around and then the soft click of the door opening and closing.

And then she was alone. Alone with her thoughts. The memory of the last night and everything that had happened and been said. She was suddenly wide awake, scrambling up and staring at the door with wide eyes. Everything had happened so fast yesterday. Killian suddenly standing in front of her, giving her a lecture, talking about Pride and Prejudice, Darcy and Wickham and then the words that had rendered her speechless, made her mind reel.

_I love you, Emma. With all my heart._

He hadn't even given her the chance to say something back, just kissed her as if his life depended on it, and her mind had still been trying to catch up when he'd carried her to their bedchamber. So many emotions had been colliding inside of her head as he'd been hovering over her, asking her if she trusted him.

The words had been clogging her throat, but they just hadn't wanted to come out and then his mouth had been between her legs, his tongue and fingers driving her crazy. Then there was the panic as he lowered himself above her, the past haunting her again, but he hadn't let her slip away into the abyss, he'd helped her stand up and face that last demon, and then he'd finally slid into her, filling her and making her forget everything around her. Her focus had been solely on the feeling of him stretching her, hitting her so deep and she'd just wanted more.

Wanted it deeper. Harder. Faster. Just more. And he'd given it to her.

Everything she wanted. Everything she needed.

She'd wanted to tell him afterwards when he'd looked at her with that lopsided smirk and one cocked eyebrow, his hair disheveled from her hands and a fine sheen of sweat covering his cheeks and chest, she'd wanted to tell him then. But she still hadn't been able to.

He'd pulled her into his body, her head coming to rest on his chest and she'd heard his heart beat steadily under her ear; the sound had been so soothing, the warmth of his body beside her so comforting that she'd just wanted to close her eyes for a moment and relax. She'd fallen asleep instead, and now thinking about everything that happened made her heart beat a tick too hard in her chest.

He told her he loved her with all his heart and she wanted to say it back. So badly.

Emma threw the blankets away to get up, almost falling face-first out of the bed as her legs tangled in the sheets. She barely held her balance, her feet hitting the floor hard and she stubbed her toe on the commode as she reached for her silken robe, her gaze roaming frantically around the room. She needed to get dressed. She needed to get her hair in order. She needed to find Killian and tell him. She needed …

The door opened and Killian stepped in, carrying a huge tray and the smile he sent her way as he walked slowly to the table in front of the windows shot tingles of warmth through her. She loved him so much.

"Killian, I ..."

But he didn't let her finish the sentence.

"Come here, love. I've brought breakfast. I don't know how you feel this fine morning, but I'm famished."

When she sat down at the table and looked over the food he'd brought with him the moment was gone, her courage had left her completely. Not to mention that one look at him in the harsh light shining through the windows told her that his smile had hidden the worry lines from her when he'd entered the room, but she could see them now. And the hint of sadness in his eyes.

They ate in silence, Emma stealing glances from time to time, wondering what had caused the pensive expression on his face. The food formed a hard knot in her stomach the more she forced herself to eat and in the end she let the fork drop on her plate and pushed it back. Killian poured them both another cup of tea before he leaned back in his chair and met her eyes for the very first time since they'd sat down for their meal.

"I need to go back. I need to deal with Milah."

The knot in her stomach tightened and she gulped hard to keep the sudden nausea under control, even managed to keep her voice steady as she asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"I'd like to take the easy way out of this situation. If it's all right with you."

Her heart was almost slamming out of her chest but she curled her hands into fists to hold her temper in check. She might dislike the woman, but that didn't mean she wanted her dead. And right now she couldn't think of any other way to get rid of her, so she was willing to listen to Killian's solution.

"The easy way?"

"Pay her off," Killian replied, sending her a crooked smile in an effort to ease the tension that had filled the room, hovering like a cloud between them. "I'll send her to the colonies, promise her a monthly sum she can well live on as long as she stays on the other side of the ocean."

"You think she will go?" Emma asked, gulping again to get rid of the lump that had formed in her throat. Her stomach was quivering by now, and she pressed one hand against it under the table. "She didn't seem to want to give up that easily."

"It was never about me, Emma." Killian was shifting forward, leaning closer to her, his eyes showing so much compassion that her throat closed up even more. "Love was never something that Milah and I shared. She only wants my money, and I'm wealthy enough to give her that."

Emma knew it was the easiest solution, but that didn't mean she had to like it. It felt like they were rewarding Milah for what she did, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She didn't even realize that she'd dropped her gaze to the table until Killian's fingers appeared in her vision and he pulled her chin up so that she had to face him again.

"I'm yours, Emma." His voice was low but full of determination, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her feel dizzy. "I'll be always yours. Tell me you understand that? Tell me you believe me?"

"I understand," Emma breathed, the words she wanted to tell him almost choking her, a barrier in her throat, one she still couldn't get rid of. Her voice cracked as she added, "I believe in you. In us."

"Good." Killian reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before he stood up and walked towards the door. "I'll talk to David and get ready. The sooner I'm in London the sooner I can come back to you."

The door closed behind him and suddenly everything caught up to her. Emma managed to reach the chamber pot just in time before her breakfast made a reappearance and splashed into the pot. Her eyes watered as another spasm shook her, the spasms not stopping until there was nothing left in her stomach.

She fell against the bed when the gag reflex finally ceased, taking in heaving breaths as she fought for her stomach to settle down. Cold sweat had broken out on her forehead and she brushed her hand over it, closing her eyes.

It had probably been too much emotions for her body to deal with in the last twenty-four hours. Heartfelt confessions, panic attacks, and unwelcome decisions. She'd be fine again soon. She just needed to lay down for a few moments.

* * *

Emma hadn't seen Killian all day; he didn't even share dinner with her, and her stomach had still felt too queasy, so she hadn't eaten much anyway. But he came to her when the last rays of the sun was shining through the windows.

He didn't give her any chance to talk, just hauled her into his body and kissed her hard and desperate. She didn't really want to talk anyways. She needed to feel him inside of her probably as much as he needed to be in her. But he still made sure she was ready. Biting at her erect nipples, licking over her clit and fucking her with his tongue until she almost came before he was kneeling between her legs and pulled her towards him. The position wasn't comfortable at all, her whole weight boring down on her shoulders while her legs were thrown over his thighs. But it didn't matter when he buried himself deep in her, taking her with sharp short thrusts.

She was bucking her hips against him, urging him to move faster in a silent plea, but the position didn't give him much room to move and with a grunt he pushed her back. She almost whined when he slipped out of her, but he was back between her thighs in an instant, plunging back into her.

"God, I love you, Emma." Another deep thrust, another shiver running through her body. "I love you."

She didn't have enough air in her lungs to reply to his words. He was slamming into her with such a force that she could only hold on to him for the ride, nothing more. Until he buried himself until the hilt in her, and then he suddenly stopped, his body poised over her, his arms trembling as he held himself above her.

"Tell me."

His gaze was fiery with passion and love, burning her. She didn't know what he was asking of her, what he wanted to hear. Though saying the three words back to him now, while her body was aflame with lust for him, didn't feel right. But she could tell him something else. She pulled him back down to her, scraping her teeth over his ear lobe.

"You're mine," she whispered, digging her nails into the muscles of his ass as they flexed under her fingers while he kept thrusting into her. "Mine."

* * *

It had been four days since Killian had ridden to London, and Emma started to get anxious. Not about him being with Milah. No, she trusted him completely when it came to the other woman now. But she feared something had happened to him and they just didn't know about it yet.

It was her biggest fear. That she might have missed her chance. That it was too late to tell him. Too late to tell him she loved him. Too late to give him the happy news.

A smile split up her face, despite her dark thoughts, as her hand settled on her stomach. She knew she couldn't feel anything yet, but her hands still went to her stomach more often than before. There was a new human being growing inside of her, and she was almost exploding with excitement to give the news to Killian.

After puking every morning since Killian left she'd finally realized what the cause of her nausea might be and after talking to Mary Margaret and seeing a doctor her suspicion had been confirmed.

She was pregnant. Finally pregnant with Killian's child.

Emma couldn't wait to tell him. About the pregnancy, and about her feelings. But at first he needed to come back in one piece, and with each passing day Emma's fears grew.

She was sitting in the drawing room on the first floor, in a chair directly beside the window, when an exited whicker of a horse draw her attention. She looked out of the window, her gaze immediately falling on the group riding towards the house.

The scarf she was knitting dropped to the ground, and a moment later Emma was out of the door. She almost flew down the stairs, so eager to welcome Killian, and her heart was nearly beating out of her chest as she rushed through the entry hall. She didn't even wait for a servant to open the door, she just yanked at it with all her strength until it opened far enough so that she could slip through the gap, and then she gathered her dress in her hands and started running towards him.

But she only got a few feet past the entrance before a booming noise cracked through the air and she skittered to a halt, her body reacting before her mind had caught up. Her eyes flitted to Killian, a strange sound rumbling out of her chest as she saw him slump atop of Devil.

Gun shot. It had been a gun shot.

"Killian?" she shouted, her stupor falling away, her feet pounding on the gravel as she ran towards him as fast as she could. Killian's body tilted sideways before he caught himself, swaying precariously on his horse and another shout ripped through her throat, "Killian!"


	18. Chapter 18

"Bloody hell!"

Pain bloomed over his ribs, a sharp pain Killian recognized at once. He didn't need to hear the sound of a rifle going off to know he'd been hit by a bullet. He slumped over Devil's neck, instinctively folding his body to keep the pain at bay. It wasn't the first time he'd been hit by a bullet, and he gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, almost gliding out of the saddle as another rush of pain stabbed his side. He took shallow breaths as he was trying to assess the injury; he didn't feel dizzy and as he pulled his coat back to check how much blood he was losing he was relieved to see that the amount hinted at only a graze and not a major wound, even if it still hurt immensely.

His focus turned back to his surroundings and he heard Robin shouting orders behind him, knowing his best friend would pursue the attacker immediately, and his eyes focused on the person running towards him. He let out a growl, fear sparking through the cloud of pain that was still burning down his side. He slipped off Devil as fast as possible, biting his tongue to keep himself from crying out as his feet hit the ground, and with a few strides he was beside Emma.

"Where did you get hit?" Emma's fingers were flying over his body, and he reached for her hands, clasping them in his grasp to keep her from finding his waistcoat and shirt dark with blood.

"I'm fine, love."

"You didn't get hit?"

"It's only a graze." She yanked her hands down in an attempt to free them, but he didn't let go. "Emma, go back to the house and find Henry. Take him to the nursery and stay there."

"I'm not gonna leave you," she said firmly, her jaw tightened with determination.

"Get Henry, Emma. David will deal with my wound," Killian urged, pulling her hands up to his mouth to press a kiss against her knuckles in hope of distracting her from his injury, appealing to her mother instinct as he added, "I need Henry and you to be safe until we find the one who shot me. Do you understand?"

Her posture stayed rigid for a few more moments before she relaxed, giving in begrudgingly. "Fine, but you'll come to see us as soon as possible."

"I will. I promise."

Killian watched Emma disappear in the house before he started to walk, favoring his left side and David joined him before he reached the door.

"You're still standing so I assume he didn't hit something vital?" Killian opted on just giving David a nod in affirmation, but of course David wasn't satisfied with that nonverbal answer. "How bad is it?"

"I didn't lie to Emma," Killian said, hoping his limp wasn't too obvious. "It's really not more than a graze."

"Then let's have a look, shall we?"

David ushered him into the library, Mary Margaret already on her way to the kitchen, probably getting the necessary utensils for dealing with the wound.

"Lose your clothes," David ordered, pointing towards the broad chair in front of the fireplace.

"I didn't know you're interested in men, too," Killian tried to jest, hissing out an expletive when he shrugged out of the coat.

"Stop flirting, Jones," David scoffed before stepping beside him.

David's expression turned stern as his eyes fell on the bloodstained fabric of Killian's waistcoat. His shirt and waistcoat weren't soaked through with blood, but blood loss wasn't their only concern. Infections were always a possibility when it came to these kind of injuries, and after David had helped him peel out of the rest of his clothes they both took a closer look. Like Killian had already expected it was only a flesh wound, looking much worse than it actually was. But he still wasn't looking forward to the necessary process of cleaning the wound.

"See, nothing to fuss about after all."

"You know better than taking these kind of wounds lightly, Killian."

Before Killian could respond Mary Margaret stepped into the room with a basket full of clean cloths and bandages, and Killian shivered when she put the basket down on the ground and a bottle of scotch on the table. Leaning against the chair beside him, Killian bowed his upper body and lifted his arm over his head so that Mary Margaret had the best access possible to the wound.

"Ready?" David asked, closing his hand around Killian's upper arm and hip to keep him steady.

"As ready as I can be," Killian replied, reaching for the leather strap Mary Margaret had brought with her to shove it between his teeth; he didn't want Emma or Henry to hear his screams.

He almost blacked out when Mary Margaret poured half a bottle of his best whiskey over the wound; the burning of the alcohol was worse than he remembered and he almost bit the leather in two as he breathed through the pain.

David patted his shoulder when Mary Margaret was finished and Killian looked down to assess the damage now that the wound was clean. He had seen much worse in his time in the naval service, had had much worse injuries than this and survived them, but it didn't make it less painful by being not life threatening.

"We should call the doctor," Mary Margaret scolded as she dried the last remnants of the alcohol off his body.

"I had worse," Killian told her, jerking only slightly when Mary Margaret put a clean cloth over the wound and reached for a bandage. "Just downplay it a little bit for Emma. I don't want her to worry unnecessarily."

"As far as I know you share a chamber with your wife, Killian. She'll find out eventually."

"Aye. But not yet."

"You're too stubborn for your own good," Mary Margaret replied, wrapping the bandage around his upper body and tying it with a sharp yank that shot a jab of pain through his body. Killian swallowed the gasp that threatened to spill over his lips and ignored the disapproving look his housekeeper shot his way, but unfortunately he couldn't shut his ears. "You should lie down and wait for the doctor to arrive."

"No," he said firmly, ignoring the pain as he straightened. "Not until I've found the culprit and dealt with him."

* * *

Killian had donned new clothes and had a glass of scotch before Robin walked into the room, his friend's expression telling him they found the man, and Killian relaxed slightly. At least he didn't need to chase through the night to find him.

"It was Neal," Robin said without preamble, confirming the suspicion Killian had the moment he slipped off his horse. "We found him in the woods beside the lake."

"Where is he now?" Killian asked, pushing up from the chair.

"At the tavern in town. We didn't call the magistrate yet. I thought you wanted to talk to him first."

"You thought right." He reached for his coat with stilted movements, trying to favor his injured side as he shrugged into it. "Let's go."

He was half way to the door as Emma stepped into the room, her expression clearly showing that she'd heard Robin reveal the identity of the culprit, and with not a small amount of guilt he remembered the promise he'd given her an hour ago.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked in a low voice that almost made him wince.

"Of course," he replied, waving her into the room and shutting the door behind Robin, expecting her to yell at him as he turned around to face her. Something he clearly deserved.

"How are you?"

"I'm all right. It's just a scratch," he assured her, a little surprised that she wasn't trying to bite his head off or trying to keep him at the house while Robin dealt with Neal.

She watched him intently for long moments before she apparently made a silent decision, her next question going in a completely different direction. "Milah?"

"Dealt with," Killian replied, shifting slightly to find a position that would put less strain on his wound. "It just took me longer than expected. But she is on her way to America by now."

"Good."

Titling his head, he waited for Emma to say more. She was clearly agitated, and Killian didn't know if it was because of his injury or the fact that Neal had tried to kill him or if it was something else.

"Anything else? I need to ..."

"Don't kill him," Emma blurted out, her hand coming up to rest on his chest, her eyes searching his, clear pleading in her gaze.

"I won't storm into the tavern and put a pistol to his head."

"But you will give him over to the authorities, and they will ..." Her voice broke and he curled his fingers over her hand in silent support, not knowing what to say. But he didn't need to, Emma continued a moment later. "They will kill him."

"Probably," he said softly, wondering what she expected him to do instead. "What do you want me to do? I can't let him go. He tried to shoot me. He'll never stop hunting us."

"I know, but … he is Henry's father after all, and even though I probably will never tell him who his real father is I don't want … isn't there another way?"

Neal didn't deserve her pity, he'd hurt her in the most horrible way possible, but Emma still didn't want him to die. Killian had never loved her more than in this moment. After everything she'd been through she still maintained a pure heart, and Killian hadn't given up hope yet that he'd have a place in it one day.

"Maybe," he told her, his mind working overtime as he twirled the idea that had come to him just yet back and forth. It might work. "Australia. I can arrange that he'll be taken to a penal settlement. Never be seen again in England."

"You can do that?" she asked with a trembling voice.

"If you want me to I'll spare his life."

"Thank you, Killian." Tears were shimmering in her eyes as she stepped up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. "Thank you."

He'd wanted nothing more than to see Neal die, but Emma asked him not to kill the bastard. So he wouldn't. No matter how much he wanted to put a bullet in the bastard's brain himself.

Killian grit his teeth together as he followed Emma out the door, each step sending a sharp spark of pain through his side. His legs weren't truly steady and he would let himself rest soon, but first he needed to deal with the last threat to Emma and his happiness. Get Neal out of their lives once and for all, and then he could concentrate all his efforts on winning her heart.

* * *

Killian almost went back on his promise as he entered the backroom of the tavern and came face to face with Neal, a smug expression adorning the other man's face even though he'd been caught.

"Well, mate," Killian walked through the room, stopping in front of the table the man was sitting at. "As you can see you've missed."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Neal drawled, his eyes wandering to Killian's left side and Killian cursed inwardly; he'd hoped he could hide his injury, but apparently Neal was more observant than Killian imagined.

"You truly don't deserve to walk on this earth, but apparently today is your lucky day. I'll spare your life." A flash of surprise crossed the other man's face before he schooled his features again and the grin reappeared. As much as he wished to see Neal's life end, he'd promised Emma. Australia might not kill Neal, but the life there would be very unpleasant for the man, and Killian couldn't wait to tell him what he could look forward to. "Not that what I've planned for you will be much of a life."

"You can't prove anything," Neal huffed, but Killian saw the first cracks in his smug demeanor. "These are all empty threats."

"So it's good that I don't have to prove anything."

"You're going to get your own hands dirty, Your Grace?" Neal asked, using Killian's title with clear mockery.

"No, but I'm still a duke. I'm sure you can imagine how far my reach goes." Killian leaned forward, planting his fists on the table and closing the gap between them until their faces were only a few inches apart. "Australia, my friend. That's the right place for scum like you. The work will teach you some manners you apparently don't have."

"You can't do that."

"Oh, I can," Killian replied, cocking an eyebrow at the other man as he sprawled into a chair, glad that he managed to hide the pain shooting through his side this time, and he grinned at Neal. "And believe me, I have eyes and ears everywhere. If you only think about hurting me or people that matter to me ever again I will kill you with my own bare hands and enjoy it."

Neal sputtered obscenities in his direction as Killian's servants hauled him out of the room, and Killian leaned back with a sigh, pressing his hand on his side. The throbbing had increased over the last hour, his whole left side was burning by now and he knew he had to lie down soon.

"You all right?" Robin asked in a low voice, his friend leaning forward and meeting his gaze, clear worry in his eyes.

"Aye, I'm all right. Let's talk specifics."

The next hour went by with sketching out how to get Neal on a ship down to Australia and how much it might cost him. In the end the hand he curled around his mug of ale was trembling and he felt sweat breaking out all over his body. It was time for him to get home and rest before he would crash right in front of everyone.

Killian's gaze fell on the clock mounted on the wall and he almost laughed out loud as he saw it was already past midnight. Of course this was how he started his birthday. In the grubby bar room of a tavern, the left side of his body throbbing with pain. He pushed himself off the stool, his hand hitting the table hard when his vision started to flicker and the room began to spin around him.

"Bloody hell," he hissed before his legs gave out under him and his vision turned black.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Since someone asked … yes, the story is almost over. Two more chapters after this, and then the epilogue.**

Emma was sitting at the window in the drawing room upstairs, looking out into the darkness, her eyes never wavering from the alley that lead to the house as she waited for Killian to come back from dealing with Neal. Outwardly she seemed to be calm, but on the inside she was reeling. Everything that happened over the last hours collided in her mind with the secrets she had decided to still keep from her husband.

She'd had an hour to think about everything while she was hauled up with Henry in his chamber. He'd ordered her inside the house to keep Henry safe while she'd only wanted to fall into his arms and never let him go again. He'd known what he was doing by appealing to her motherly instincts though. First and foremost Henry had to be safe. Everything else had to stay back.

So she'd heeded her husband's plea and went to fetch Henry, bringing him to his chamber and distracting him by letting him pull her into an imaginative world where he was a knight riding on the horse Killian had given him, following the tracks of a dragon he was supposed to slay to rescue the princess. She'd listened to her son spinning his tale while her mind had been occupied by other things. Worry about Killian's wound, fear about who the shooter might be – she had her suspicion and she was fairly certain Killian had to – while still carrying the burden of her secrets on her shoulders.

Beside all the anxiety, she'd had to fight against the nausea that had been rolling over her in waves, and in the end she'd had to excuse herself, giving Henry into the care of the governess for a few minutes while she'd hastened to their own bedchamber to empty her stomach into the chamber pot there.

When she'd come back her mind had been in less of a frenzy, and she could think much clearer. She'd let herself think about the consequences if her suspicion turned out to be correct, and even though a shiver had wrecked her body when she'd thought about Neal and all the pain she'd had to endure, there was still a part of her who couldn't live with the fact that he might die through their hands. Emma wanted nothing more than to be rid of Neal and Milah, but playing a part in their demises was something she wasn't willing to put on Killian or her own's shoulders.

So she'd gone downstairs in search of her husband, and she'd been on the last flight when the door had opened and Robin had rushed in, the expression on his face telling her that they'd found the culprit. He hadn't acknowledged her though, he'd disappeared instantly in the library and Emma had hastened after him, stopping dead in her tracks when she'd heard Robin utter Neal's name.

Emma still thought it had been the right decision to ask Killian to spare Neal's life. Granted it'd lift one weight of her shoulders if he was gone, but she just couldn't let it happen. No matter how horrible he'd been to her she didn't want him dead, and Killian had respected her wish.

She almost told him she loved him then, but she hadn't wanted to say the words for the first time out loud when he was halfway out of the door. Though now her mind was conjuring horrible scenarios. Neal could shoot him again and not miss this time, Killian could fall from his horse and break his neck, the wound could be worse than he'd let on, it could get infected, he could …

Emma groaned and buried her face in her hands, pictures of Killian dying on a dirty barroom floor flickering over her closed eyelids, making her stomach churn and her heart ache. All she could do now was worry though, and calling herself a coward for not telling Killian sooner that she loved him.

When Emma opened her eyes again she could see a carriage coming down the alley, and she was out of the door in a heartbeat, rushing down the stairs, a smile pulling her lips up when she hurried towards the entrance. But then the door opened before she could reach it and her heart plummeted into her stomach as he saw Robin and three of their servants carry in a makeshift stretcher.

For a brief moment she hoped the person lying on the stretcher wasn't Killian, hoped he'd step into the entry hall every moment with a smile on his face. The hope shattered into a million pieces when the men stepped closer and he could see her husband lying on the stretcher.

Utterly pale. Completely lifeless.

* * *

Killian was still breathing. He wasn't dead.

Emma was repeating the words in her head over and over again as she followed the men up the stairs. It was the first thing Robin said when he saw her, but her mind was still jumping in a multitude of directions as she watched the men put the stretcher down beside the bed with utmost care before they reached for Killian's arms and legs and lifted him onto it.

She should have told him. Now she might never get the chance. He'd never know how much she loved him. He'd never know that she was pregnant with his child.

Emma pressed one hand against her stomach as a wave of nausea swept over her. She didn't have the time to get sick now, and apparently her will was stronger than her body just this once because the urge to throw up receded.

She looked at the doctor they'd fortunately already brought with them, and he assured her that after the first examination of the patient which he already concluded at the tavern he could tell that it wasn't anything life threatening.

She exhaled the breath she was holding then, her legs almost giving out under her. But if she let the doctor see any weakness right now he'd probably send her to another chamber to lie down, and she didn't want to get into an argument with the doctor about that. So she drew on her remaining strength and straightened her shoulders, stepping beside the bed opposite of the doctor so that she wouldn't get in his way but could still observe everything he was doing.

When the doctor looked up she already expected him to shush her away, but he only smiled and when back to his examination of Killian without saying a word, and Emma relaxed slightly as she watched the doctor pull up Killian's shirt and loosen the bandage around his torso so that he could have a look at the wound underneath. An angry red gash was covering Killian's ribs and Emma almost whimpered, chastising herself for not checking the wound herself and making sure he didn't leave the house.

"I see they've cleaned the wound," the doctor mumbled, apparently not needing an answer as he continued almost immediately, "It looks all right. A little red around the edges, but that's a sign of the natural healing process."

"So there is no infection?" Emma asked, balling her hands into fists as she waited for the doctor's answer.

"No, there are no signs of it yet. But the wound needs to be kept clean." This time her legs truly gave out under her and she sank onto the mattress, her stomach making itself known again as she forced herself to listen to the rest of the doctor's instructions. "I'm recommending absolute bed rest for His Grace. From what Baron Backhurst told me I figure His Grace lost consciousness due to exhaustion. He needs a lot of sleep and good food in the next days to help the wound heal without any complications."

"I'll make sure he'll get it. Thank you, doctor."

It was a small miracle that she managed to settle down her stomach once again, and she closed her eyes for a moment after the doctor had left the room. She'd almost fallen asleep despite the noise the servants were making scurrying around the chamber, but a tentative knock at the door brought her back and she opened her eyes slowly to see her husband's friend standing in the doorway.

She ushered him inside and Robin stepped closer, looking down at Killian for a moment before asking softly, "How is he?"

"The doctor said there is no infection," Emma replied, new worry knotting her stomach as she looked at Killian's still pale face. "Yet."

"He'll be fine," Robin assured her, sending a crooked smile her way. "He didn't listen to the demands of his body for rest and food over the last weeks as he was trying to secure that neither Neal nor Milah could bring any harm to you or Henry."

"So it's my fault after all that he collapsed?"

"No," Robin told her firmly, shaking his head. "Killian has one stubborn head on his shoulders. If he sets his mind on something, nothing and no one can stop him. Not even you, milady."

Robin's remark calmed her down a little and she sent him a shaky smile, grateful that Killian had such a good friend. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being such a good friend. For standing by his side the whole time."

"You're welcome."

* * *

It was the middle of the night when the last servant left their bedchamber and Emma just managed to undress and put her nightshift on before she collapsed back onto the bed beside her husband. She didn't want to disturb his rest by scooting closer so she only stretched out her hand to touch his upper arm since she needed the contact before she gave in and let sleep claim her.

When Emma woke up a few hours later she felt as if she'd only slept a few minutes, and this time she wasn't able to keep the nausea in check. She reached the chamber pot just in time, though there wasn't much in her stomach to come up anyway; she'd hardly eaten anything the day before.

After washing her face with a damp washcloth and rinsing out her mouth with water she stepped beside the bed again. Killian looked still too pale, dark shadows under his eyes and his cheeks were hollowed, and she wondered if her husband was just that good in hiding any discomfort or if she'd just been too blind to see it.

While she got dressed she pondered on whether or not she'd played a significant role in Killian's breakdown until her musings got interrupted when the door opened and Henry peeked in.

"Is Killy all right, Mommy?"

"He will be," Emma said with more conviction then she felt.

"Can I read him a story?"

Emma already wanted to say no, but then she saw the worry in her son's eyes and realized that Henry needed to be close to Killian as much as she did.

"Sure," she replied, assuming that Killian was probably too exhausted to notice anything going on around him. After all the whole commotion around his person yesterday didn't wake him, so Henry would probably neither. "But be careful not to jostle him."

Henry clambered up on the bed very carefully, scooting closer to Killian until he almost touched him before he opened his book and started to tell Killian a story he was making up by only looking at the pictures.

Unbidden tears welled up in her eyes as she watched her son and her husband, the two persons who meant so much to her, and she decided then and there that she would tell Killian as soon as he woke up. She wouldn't take a chance anymore, she wouldn't wait any longer. But first she needed to get a light breakfast into her stomach and while Henry was rambling on she stepped out for a moment to ask the maid to bring up a tray for her.

She was almost finished with her breakfast when Henry decided his story was over and he joined her at the table, grabbing a slice of bread with honey on it for himself, chewing happily, and he barely managed to swallow the last bite before asking eagerly, "Can I give Killy my present now, so he can see it when he wakes up?"

Emma had completely forgotten about Killian's birthday until Henry mentioned it, and she swallowed down the regret about not being able to spend the day like she'd imagined it before telling Henry to fetch the present.

He'd found a stone on one of his excursions with David; on first sight it was a bland gray stone, but if you turned it around you could see this perfect imprint of a skeleton of a fish. Emma had looked at it with wonder when Henry had shown it to her, and his enthusiastic announcement that it was his birthday present for Killian had definitely choked her up.

She didn't know that he'd taken it with him back to the country, he must have smuggled it into their luggage without her noticing it. She definitely didn't think of taking her present for Killian with them though. It was still back in London, hidden under her drawers so that he wouldn't find it. He'd mentioned the book once to her, so she'd ordered a copy of Don Quixote for his birthday.

When Henry stepped back into the room Emma had to hide her smile as he struggled with carrying the stone. His small hands were barely able to close around it, his eyes shining with pride as he heaved it up on the bed table. After Emma assured him that she would tell Killian it was his present the moment he woke up, Henry turned around to leave. He was already half way out of the door as he apparently remembered something. He swirled around and ran back to the bed, stood up on his tiptoes and leaned forward to press a kiss against Killian's cheek.

"Get well soon, Killy," he whispered, patting Killian's cheek with his small hand before rocking back on his feet, and a moment later he was out the door.

Emma was still smiling as she leaned over Killian to check on him; he was still sleeping deeply and Emma decided that she would let him sleep a while longer before waking him up so that he could eat something.

Since she still felt a little unsteady on her feet she asked a maid to fetch her a book from the library, and after the maid had brought it to her she settled down beside Killian again, intending to pass the time by reading one of his favorite stories. Frankenstein.

It was way too gory for her liking but Killian loved it and she remembered how he'd teased her about her squeamishness when it came to certain parts of the story, and the lopsided smirk he'd sent her way every time she'd shivered beside him.

So she leaned back against the headrest and opened the book on the first page, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she started to read.


	20. Chapter 20

The first time Killian woke up Emma only managed to get some water and soup into him before he dropped back to sleep again. The second time he stayed awake for about an hour, but his eyes were still dulled with pain and exhaustion so she only made sure he ate another bowl of soup before she coaxed him to lay back again and moments later he was fast asleep once again.

It was late afternoon when he woke up the next time, and this time his eyes were much clearer, his body moving less sluggish as he propped himself upright against the pillows, greeting her with a soft smile. She gave him a glass of water and he drank it up in one go before he leaned back again and let his gaze drift. It wandered to the stone on the bed table, and he raised an eyebrow in question when he met her gaze.

"It's Henry's birthday present for you," she said softly, leaning forward to brush her lips over his. "Happy Birthday, Killian."

"That's not how I've imagined spending my birthday though," he croaked, closing his fingers over hers to keep her right by his side. "I've imagined spending it in bed, but not like this. I imagined passing the time with more enjoyable activities." His mouth curled up into a lascivious grin and she felt her cheeks flush with heat as he cocked one eyebrow and added with a voice that shot a shiver down her spine. "With my wife."

"My present for you is still in London," Emma said hastily, ignoring the blatant flirting since they couldn't do anything about it in his weakened state anyway. "I didn't take it with us when we came here."

"I don't need a present from you," he replied, the teasing tone gone from his voice. "You being here by my side is present enough for me."

Her heart skipped a beat and her throat closed up as she looked at him. Her fingers started to tremble in his as she remembered how easily she could have lost him to a bullet and she gulped hard, adamant to finally get the words out. "I ..."

The door burst open, making her jump up from the bed, and Henry rushed in. "Killy! You're awake."

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she walked over to the table and righted the things on it until she was certain she had herself under control again. When she looked back at the bed Henry was lying on it beside Killian, telling him eagerly where and when David and he had found the stone, and Killian looked at Henry with a soft smile on his face, listening to her son's story attentively, and her throat closed up even more.

She loved them so much, and if she didn't manage to tell Killian soon she might explode.

Henry stayed until Mary Margaret came into the room, shooing Henry out before she started to change the bandage around Killian's wound, telling them that the wound looked fine and as soon as it had scabbed over she would administer a concoction out of honey and wine which she'd heard was helpful in keeping an infection away.

It wasn't as if Emma had any experience in wound treating so she hoped Mary Margaret was right. Killian just nodded in answer to her rambling; a fine sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead when Mary Margaret was finished with wrapping a new bandage around his torso and he laid back against the headboard and closed his eyes with a soft sigh.

Emma's heart was fluttering with nerves as she watched him; she wanted to tell him she loved him, she'd promised herself to tell him as soon as possible. Now she just needed to find the much needed courage to open her mouth and say the words.

"Are you all right, love?" Killian's low voice startled her and she tried to answer him but her voice just didn't want to cooperate. He apparently sensed her distress and lifted his hand. "Come here."

She walked over to the bed and sat down beside him, careful to not jostle him unnecessarily. She wasn't able to look him in the eyes, though. Instead she was staring at her hands, her knuckles stark white since she'd buried her nails in her palms so hard that she feared she might draw blood.

"Emma?"

She forced herself to look up at him, her heart hammering in her chest as she met his gaze, the lump in her throat grew bigger and bigger and if she wouldn't say something soon she feared she might not be able to get any words past it. She inhaled a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out with a shudder.

"I love you. And I'm carrying your child."

* * *

Killian definitely didn't expect to hear these words and all he could do was stare at his wife with his mouth wide open for several moments. Only when her face fell and she started to scurry away he managed to come out of his stupor and reached for her arm, closing his fingers around it to keep her on the bed with him.

"Love, I ..." He trailed off, searching for the right words, still feeling slightly in shock. He wanted to pull her into his arms, wanted to kiss her senseless, wanted to tell her over and over again how much her words meant to him, how much he loved her. But she wasn't even looking at him, her whole body trembling. "Would you please look at me?" Her eyes met his after a few seconds and he asked softly, "You're pregnant?" She just nodded, and his eyes flickered down to her stomach for a moment before coming back to her eyes again. His hand lifted on its own accord, hovering over her stomach. "You … we … can I ..."

Her small fingers closed around his and she pulled his hand to her stomach, putting their entwined hands right over the spot their child was growing and tears pricked the back of his eyes as he finally started to process what she'd been saying.

She loved him. And she was pregnant with their child.

"I'm not that far along," she murmured. "You can't feel him moving yet."

"Him?" he asked, his mouth tilting up into a huge grin as he skimmed his fingers over her stomach.

"Well, you need an heir and I hope that ..."

"What if I want a little girl with her mother's eyes," he interrupted her, pulling their entwined hands to his mouth to press a kiss on the back of her hand. "A little girl who has her strength and who is as stubborn as her beautiful mother."

"I'm not stubborn," Emma huffed, a furrow appearing between her brows as she scowled at him.

"I love you," he blurted out, his heart just too full with love for her to keep the words in any longer, and a part of him hoped to hear the words back again, to hear her say it out loud one more time since he still had a hard time believing it to be true.

Her eyes misted over and her lips started to tremble as she looked at him, her voice barely more than a whisper as she said, "And I love you."

He pulled her down until he was able to brush his lips over hers, cursing his inability to do more. He was only able to draw her against his body until her head was resting on his shoulder before his eyes drooped shut and sleep threatened to claim him again. He was still too exhausted to fight it, and he didn't want to either.

The last minutes had been one of the happiest in his life, and he knew when he would wake up again Emma would be by his side. She loved him, and she would stay by his side for the rest of his life.

* * *

The next two weeks were torture for him; he was bound to the bed for a week, every strenuous activity was forbidden, so he couldn't pleasure his wife as he wanted to. At least she spent every night in bed with him after he'd threatened to get up and find her if she refused to stay in the same room with him. But feeling her lithe body move beside him was torture in and of itself; he wanted to push her shift up and bury himself deep in her warm sheath, but every sudden move he made still shot a wave of pain through his body. He had to ignore his hard and throbbing cock because he was definitely not healed enough to allow his body to climax. Not in her body, and not by his own hand either. He wasn't ready yet, but it was driving him slowly but surely insane.

Another week went by in which he couldn't touch Emma like he wanted to, but he'd been allowed to leave his bed and walk around in the house. As long as he let himself rest as soon as he felt tired he was fine. His wound only sent a dull twinge through his body when he moved too fast, but he felt his strength coming back with each passing day and he'd promised himself that he would join his body with Emma's as soon as possible.

Twenty days after Neal had shot him he decided he'd given his body enough time to heal. It was time to give his body the release it craved ever since he'd woken up to see his wife sitting beside him on the bed, her hair flowing in golden waves down her back, the redness of her lips begging him to kiss her, the creamy skin visible over the hem of her dress begging him to trace it with his tongue. She told him she loved him and that she was carrying his child and his desire to make love to her had just grown even more.

The house was growing silent as his wife was getting ready to join him in bed, and he watched her walking around, his mind cataloguing all the changes her body was already undergoing due to the pregnancy. A glow seemed to envelop her whole form, making her eyes seem brighter, her skin creamier than ever. Her waist seemed fuller, her breasts seemed already bigger, and he longed to fill his hands with them, to feel the changes under his fingers, to see if her body was more sensitive now, if she still liked him sucking her erect nipples into his mouth to play with them until she whimpered under his caresses, if her body was still as responsive as before to his hands and mouth.

"Don't," he growled as Emma reached for her shift, his harsh tone obviously startling her as she looked at him with furrowed brows. So he took in a deep breath before he added with a low voice, "Please don't put your shift on, love."

She didn't question him, she only hesitated for a few seconds before she walked over to him stark naked and slipped under the sheets with him. He never looked away from her as he fumbled under the sheets to get rid of his drawers. He threw them on the ground and turned on his side, watching Emma's breath quicken when he closed his fingers around the fabric covering her breasts and pulled the sheets down, revealing her nipples to his gaze.

He couldn't resist leaning down to flick his tongue over one erect peak, drawing it into his mouth and suckling at it gently. She moaned softly, the sound telling him that she apparently still liked it when his mouth paid special attention to her nipples. He wanted to spend hours worshipping her body, but it had been too long since he'd been inside her and he just couldn't wait any longer. He pulled the sheets completely off her and settled between her legs which she'd opened for him without even a moment of hesitation.

But as he lowered himself on her he saw a flicker of concern cross her face. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"No," he murmured, leaning forward to capture her lips in a thorough kiss that left them both a little breathless. "But my body wants what it wants. I feel like I've been hard for you for ages." An adorable blush rose up in her cheeks and a giggle spilled over her lips, the sound making his heart constrict with love and his cock jerk with anticipation. He shifted atop of her, forcing himself to scowl at her as he said, "It's not funny, milady."

"It's a little funny," she objected and a shiver raced down his spine as her nails raked over his back.

He tilted his hips so that his cock parted her folds. "You think this is funny?"

The blush on her cheeks deepened, a small groan slipping out of her mouth as he pressed harder against her. "Ohhhhh, I ..."

"Lost for words, love?" The pounding in his cock was nearly driving him mad as he rocked against her core. He wanted to fill her, wanted to be surrounded by her heat. "Tell me what you want. What you need."

"You," she whispered, canting her hips upward so that his cock slid lower, pushing against her entrance. "Only you."

"How?" he rasped as he thrust forward, slipping into her heat a few inches. "Like this?" He went slow, gliding into her inch by excruciating inch, reveling in her soft moans. "Or more like this?" He snapped his hips forward so that he was completely buried inside her, her gasp making him nearly spill his release straightaway. He was barely able to hold back, his muscles starting to quiver as he fought the urge to pound into her without mercy. "Tell me."

Her fingers fluttered over the still slightly red scar slashing over his ribs, and he knew what she would say before the words even left her lips. "Slow."

She might want him to go slow only because she feared he might overtax himself and for a second he wanted to defy her, wanted to take her hard and fast until she screamed his name, but then common sense won out. He didn't want to collapse again, didn't want to give her another shock. So he went slow, pushing her towards the edge with sure strokes, keeping himself in check while watching her succumb to the pleasure.

Soon her breathing became erratic and her nails dug into his hips as she held on to him. She was close; he could feel her body trembling in need of release. Her eyes glazed over and he shifted his hips, pushed her legs even further apart so he could hit her even deeper, finding that sweet spot inside of her that drove her nearly insane under him. He stroked the spot over and over again with each of his thrusts, feeling the telltale tickle at the base of his spine, telling him that he was close to his own climax. But he wouldn't go before her, so he changed the angle of his thrusts to stimulate her clit every time he pushed deep inside her, hoping he could hold out as long as it took her to fall over the edge.

"Come for me, love," he rasped, feeling his balls tighten, his climax inevitable now. "Come for me."

He erupted inside of her the moment her walls contracted around him, milking him so hard that stars appeared in front of his eyes. She moaned his name over and over again while her walls were fluttering around him and his climax seemed to never stop as he kept coming and coming and coming.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage when the waves of his climax finally subsided and he couldn't keep himself from crashing down on her. His muscles were quivering with exertion, his blood was rushing in his ears, his lungs seemed to be unable to draw in enough air and he feared he might have overtaxed himself after all. But it had been so worth it.

He managed to roll off before he'd crush her, and it took him some effort to tilt his head and open his eyes to look at her. She was smiling at him as she reached for his hand, and his eyes fell shut again when her fingers closed around his, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over him as he listened to the frantic beat of his heart. He felt her curl against his body and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned his head so that his lips touched her forehead.

He was certain that his body would recover from this exertion very soon, but if he died in that moment, he'd die a very happy man.


	21. Chapter 21

Henry had rushed out of the house about an hour ago, all exited. David was taking him fishing and Henry had practically glowed with anticipation. As Emma looked at her husband now he wore the almost exact same expression on his face, and she wondered if he'd had a hand in David inviting Henry to this fishing excursion.

"Ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready."

The basket for their picnic was sitting on the table, waiting for them. Henry would have loved to come with them, but Killian hadn't told her of his plans until Henry was out of the house. So her suspicions that his silence had been deliberate were actually not completely unjustified.

She suspected them to ride to wherever he wanted to go; she hadn't taken his protectiveness into account though. She might have overcome her morning sickness, but her husband had made it his mission to see that she didn't overtax herself in the slightest. So of course they were taking the carriage and not going on horseback to their destination.

Emma was watching Killian out of the corner of her eyes when he swung her up into the carriage before he stepped up onto the coachman's seat. She was still looking for any sign of uncomfortableness, any sign that his wound might still affect him. The wound had healed nicely and he'd stopped favoring his injured side over a week ago, but she was as protective as her husband and she'd watched him like a hawk to keep him from pushing himself too far too fast.

But the sun was out and everything around them was blooming and as they rattled down the alley she leaned back into the cushions and closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her skin while she listened to the sounds surrounding her.

She'd almost fallen asleep, only the halt of the carriage pulling her back from the brink, and she opened her eyes sleepily, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes fell on her husband. He was presenting her with one dashing picture. The sun was playing in his dark hair and his eyes were sparkling as he stretched out his arms to help her out of the carriage.

After he'd put her on her feet he hauled the basket and two blankets out of the carriage and prepared their picnic while Emma was enjoying the view over the lake. A breeze was ruffling the hem of her dress, tugging at her hair and she took in a deep breath. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this free, this free of doubt and worries.

The fact that Milah and Neal were miles and miles away made her heart feel lighter, especially since she knew that Killian had taken every possible precaution to keep both of them out of their lives forever.

"Want to join me, Your Grace?"

Killian's question yanked her out of her thoughts and she smiled up at him as she closed his fingers around his hand and let him lead her to the blankets spread out in the shadows of a large tree. He fed her all the delicacies Mary Margaret had packed for them, and she was smiling so much that her face started to hurt. After they'd finished with the food Killian leaned back against a tree and pulled her up to his chest, taking out the book they were currently reading. Her birthday present for him had finally arrived from London and Emma let herself get swept away by the ridiculous adventures of Don Quixote, Killian's lilting voice making her sleepy all over again.

But Killian stopped reading after two chapters, the book forgotten in his hand as he skimmed his free hand over her hair and her back, his barely there touches eliciting small fires under her skin, chasing all the sleepiness away as her body awakened with desire.

"Are you feeling adventurous?"

His voice broke the silence and she leaned back to look up at him, not knowing what he was thinking about, but the moment she saw the glint in his eyes and the smirk on his face she could guess in which direction his thoughts had gone but she still asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"Another position out of the book?" he replied, the smirk on his face growing even bigger as he added, "Right here?"

"Here?" she squeaked, looking around frantically. They were in public, and even if their location was very remote there still was the chance that someone showed up. Though a sizzle of excitement rushed through her, the threat of being discovered strangely aroused her, more than it frightened her and she turned back to Killian. "Which one?"

"Do you remember the one with the dairy maid and the stable boy?"

She couldn't help the blush from rising up in her cheeks. She knew exactly which picture he was referring to. The stable boy taking the dairy maid from behind, both still fully clothed. Only the stable boy's cock had been freed and the dairy maid's dress had been thrown up over her back, her hands pressed onto a hay bale for support while the stable boy's hands were clasped around the dairy maid's dress, his cock buried half way inside of the dairy maid.

She'd wondered since the first time she'd seen the picture how it might feel like to be taken like this from behind, if she'd ever have the courage to try it. But one look at Killian made the decision easy. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark with desire and as she let her gaze drop down she could see the obvious bulge straining against the fabric of his breeches.

"Yes," she breathed, feeling her nipples tighten and her core grow wet with need. "I remember."

"Do you want to try it?" His voice wasn't more than a hoarse rasp, his desire apparent in the way he leaned towards her, the way his eyes took on a stormy gray as he waited for her answer.

And all her doubts vanished in the blink of an eye. "Yes."

He pushed himself up instantly and her heart was leaping into her throat as Killian threw his coat onto the blankets in an obvious attempt to make it more comfortable for her. Leaning back on his haunches, he shot her a devilish smirk she felt straight down to her core and before she could lose her courage she turned around and got up on her hands and knees, making sure that her dress wasn't caught under her legs. She felt his fingers against her ankles moments later as he grabbed her dress, lifting it slowly up and she shivered as the cool breeze brushed over her exposed intimate parts.

"You're so beautiful."

Her breasts started to tingle as Killian leaned against her, one of his hands brushed along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh while the other skimmed over the fabric covering her breast, and then his fingers parted her folds, gliding through her arousal and she gasped as Killian tugged at her dress until her breasts spilled free.

She whimpered when he slipped two fingers into her and she shifted backwards, rocking into his fingers. She wanted more. She needed more.

"Killian, please."

"I'm right here."

His fingers vanished only to be replaced by the thick head of his erection a moment later. One hand closed around her breast as he balanced himself on his other hand, and then he finally pushed into her, playing with her nipple while slowly thrusting into her. Her lips parted on a gasp as he shifted and pushed himself upright, leaving her breasts aching with need. But the new position gave him the opportunity to push even deeper into her.

"God, Emma. This angle ..." His voice trailed off as he slid in and out of her, letting her feel every single inch with ever slide. "You feel amazing, love."

She couldn't say anything, all the words, all coherent thoughts were lost in bliss as Killian's normally ironclad control slipped and his thrusts became harder and faster.

"Emma, I need you ..." he rasped, his hands tightening around her waist as the pace of his thrusts quickened. "I need you to come. Now."

She was so close, tethering on the edge, but she just couldn't fall over. She wanted to. Wanted to fall over the edge with him. The desire was so overwhelming that she lost all inhibitions. She dropped down on her elbows, reached with one hand down and shoved her dress away to get to her sensitive nub.

A moan slipped over her lips as her fingers made contact and as if he'd waited for her move Killian's thrusts started to become erratic, his grunts and moans echoed over the lake. For a split second the fear of getting caught flickered up in her mind but it was drowned out by a wave of indescribable pleasure as Killian buried himself deep in her, his cock jerking inside of her as he spilled his release and her hand fell down as her climax crashed down on her.

She came, and came, and came. The debauchery of their love making keeping her orgasm going on, and on, and on. Every jerk of his cock elicited an answering ripple inside of her and the grunts reaching her ears just made it even worse.

When the waves finally subsided her knees were burning and she was sore all over, but nonetheless she was wearing a huge smile on her face as Killian slipped out of her and crashed down beside her.

"Just one moment, love," he mumbled, his chest heaving with ragged breaths and her gaze wandered down to his now flaccid cock which was glistening with her arousal and his semen. "I've a handkerchief somewhere."

She should probably feel ashamed, but instead she felt completely content right in that moment. Her knees gave out under her a moment later and she slid to the ground, not caring that her thighs were slick with his seed or that her dress was all tangled up between her legs.

Her husband had just taken her in the most debauched way, and she couldn't be happier.

-/-

Fortunately they were back at the estate before Henry, sneaking into the house without anyone noticing. They'd just made themselves comfortable in the drawing room after cleaning up, enjoying a cup of tea when Henry rushed into the room, soaking wet. Apparently neither David nor Mary Margaret had been able to stop him long enough to get him out of his wet clothes because he couldn't wait to tell them both all about his adventures. He only went to his room to change when Killian and Emma agreed on going with him and he didn't stop talking the whole way up, tumbling over the words in a rush to tell them everything. In the end they had dinner upstairs, listening to Henry's stories until he almost fell asleep at the table and Killian carried him to the bed with Henry's arms tightly wrapped around his neck, the sight of Killian tucking him in bringing tears to her eyes.

She was still feeling extremely emotional when she slipped under the sheets half an hour later, but when Killian stepped into the room the urge to cry with joy was suddenly replaced by an urgent need. She didn't know how it was possible that she wanted him to make love to her again. Only a few hours ago he'd been buried inside of her, taking her to new heights of pleasure. But even though her body should be exhausted from the exertions of the day it was clearly already getting ready to take him in again.

Her nipples tightened and her core clenched as she watched him take off his clothes and when he walked towards the bed with only his drawers remaining a needy 'Killian' slipped over her lips. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes snapping to hers and without saying anything he reached for the strings of his drawers and pulled them open, letting the fabric slip to the ground before joining her under the sheets.

"You sure?" he whispered as he drew her close and brushed his lips over hers.

"Yes."

She slipped one leg over his hips and straddled him, not even bothering with taking off her shift. It wasn't necessary to take it off. She could just lift it up and position his already hard length between her legs. A shift of her hips and he was pushing inside of her, his eyes hooded with love and need and so much more as she rose and fell atop of him.

You couldn't compare this love making to the frantic one they'd shared at the lake. This one was slow and tender. But this one was as fulfilling. This climax came over her like a slow rolling wave instead of crashing down on her, his thumb a tentative pressure against her clit as her walls contracted around him. It was a slow shudder through her body which gave her the pleasure to watch Killian's face while he came. His mouth opened on a silent moan, his back arched off the mattress, his cock jerked inside of her and she could feel the hot jets of his climax spilling into her.

He pulled her down to him while his body was still shuddering beneath her, his kiss a gentle caress. He murmured her name over and over again as he helped her off his body and she followed him with her eyes as he went to the wash basin to get a damp washcloth to clean her. Her eyes drooped shut when he went back to the basin to clean himself, and she listened to the soothing sounds of the water splashing.

She didn't open her eyes when the mattress dipped as he joined her, she just scooted backwards, welcoming his warmth as his body molded against hers. His hand settled on her stomach and she reached down to intertwine their fingers on the slight bump.

"I love you so much," Killian breathed, his lips brushing over her ear. "Both of you."

Sudden tears pricked the back of her eyes; she was so happy with Killian, something she'd never imagined could be possible. She was feeling his love in every touch, hearing it in every word he spoke, but there were still those moments when she believed it all to be only a dream.

His fingers skimmed over her skin, rubbing back and forth over her bump and she let one tear trail down her cheek as she whispered, "We love you, too."

She felt confident to speak for them both. For herself and their unborn child. Because she knew with utmost certainty that their child would love Killian as much as she did. He'd been her savior in more ways than she could have ever hoped for. He saved her from a life in misery and gave her the best gift she could ever receive.

His unconditional love.

And he gave her even more.

His patience and love had given her the strength to trust again. To love. She'd appeared on his doorstep because he'd been her last resort, but he ended up to be so much more.

He was her husband. Her safe haven. He'd put her back together when she'd lost all hope of ever feeling whole again. He'd filled a hole in her heart she didn't even know was there.

Before she met him she thought she'd never be able to fall in love. But he proved her wrong.

Killian Jones, the Duke of Hillsborough, was the love of her life. Maybe her showing up on his doorstep had been fate. Maybe their meeting had been destined.

But no matter if it had been fate or sheer luck. She'd be grateful for him every single day of her life.


	22. Chapter 22

**Epilogue**

_Four years later_

"Henry! Up! Up, up, up!"

Killian smiled when he heard Joanna's shrill voice echoing over the lawn, and his eyes went to his children. One might not be from his loins, but Henry was as much his son as Joanna was his daughter. He knew it, Henry knew it and even though the peerage didn't acknowledge their bond in any official capacity it was still there.

His heart squeezed as he heart a faint shout from upstairs and he balled one hand into a fist. He wanted nothing more than to run up the stairs and join his wife in their bedchamber, to hold her hand while she suffered through child birth. But she didn't want him there. She'd nearly thrown him out when she'd gone into labor, telling him he should take care of Henry and Joanna. He'd almost stayed nonetheless, until Emma had patted his hand and said 'please'. He'd never been able to deny his wife anything. Her wish was his command.

So now he was here, leaning against the doorframe while watching his children play. He could see worry flicker over Henry's face every now and then but with his nine years he tried not to show it. He was adamant to keep Joanna distracted from what was going on upstairs, and Killian was grateful that his son was playing catch with Joanna since he wasn't able to keep his thoughts away from Emma.

She was about to give birth to their second child and as much as he'd loved watching her grow with their infant inside of her, as much as he'd loved caring for her, massaging her feet or her lower back when the strain had gotten too much, he still recalled very well the day Joanna was born and how hearing Emma's screams of pain had torn his own heart apart.

Shifting on his feet, he forced his thoughts to something else, though a part of him was still listening to every sound from upstairs. Letting his mind go back over the last four years, his heart felt lighter with every happy memory of their life together. Five years ago he couldn't even imagine that he'd ever be this happy, but then Emma stepped into his life and everything changed.

She was the wife he never knew he wanted, the one person that managed to make him feel complete. She'd given him the joy of his children. Henry who wasn't his when it came to law and biology but everyone who said he wasn't his son would get at least a bloody nose, and Joanna who was so much like her mother that every time she curled up in his arms and snuggled up in his lap his heart swelled with love. Every day of his life he was grateful for the priceless gifts Emma had given him, and she was about to give him another one.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he was once again overwhelmed by how lucky he was. Even the last shadows that had darkened their lives had disappeared over the last four years. Not very surprising Neal had died in a bar brawl two years ago, taking a weight of both his and Emma's shoulders. Neal's thirst of revenge had always been something they'd been aware of, and they both breathed easier after his death.

Though Milah had been the smaller threat looming over them a similar fate had befallen her. Only seven months ago a jealous wife had stabbed her to death upon finding her in bed with her husband. The circumstances of her death hadn't surprised Killian either. He might have given Milah enough money to live a decent life without selling her body to anyone, but he'd known her well enough to know that she'd enjoyed the power given her by being someone's mistress. In the end her thirst for power had caused her death.

Guilt caught up to him from time to time about feeling relieved that they didn't have to fear neither Milah nor Neal to mess with their lives ever again. But every time he watched his children and wife, the feeling of guilt ceased. Everything he did to Milah and Neal was to keep Emma and their children safe, and he'd do the same again if it meant Emma, Henry, Joanna and every future children they might have would be safe.

Something small smacked against his legs, yanking him out of his thoughts and he knew what it was before he even looked down into the sparkling green eyes of his daughter.

"Daddy! Up, up, up!"

He gulped away the tears as he leaned down and picked up his daughter. Joanna buried her face into his neck, despite her young age she sensed the unease that everyone else was feeling and she reacted to it. He pressed a kiss on her forehead before turning his head to watch Henry approach, the worry now clearly visible on his son's face.

"Dad, is Mum all right?"

He shifted Joanna on his arm so that he could wrap his other arm around Henry's shoulders and pull him close. He had to admit even though Henry was calling him dad for a while now hearing it still made his heart skip a beat, and he squeezed his son's shoulder in reassurance as he said, "She'll be just fine, son. You know that nothing can defeat your mother."

"Killian?" He turned around upon hearing Mary Margaret's voice coming from the entrance of the drawing room. He couldn't see her face but a spark of fear still pulsed through him that something might have happened to Emma or the child. But Mary Margaret obviously knew where his mind might wander and stepped closer with a huge smile on her face. "Everything is fine. They're both fine. You've a healthy son."

"Can we see him?" Henry asked eagerly, slipping out from under his arm, apparently very exited to see the newest addition to their family.

"Just for a little while. Your mother and your little brother are both exhausted."

Killian followed Henry up the stairs, his heart beating hard against his ribcage as he took the steps. The moment he entered the bedchamber and saw the tiny bundle cradled in Emma's arms he nearly wept in relief. Apparently a small part of him had still feared one of them might not be all right, but the moment his wife looked up and beamed at him this last doubt went up in smoke.

Henry was already climbing up on the bed to take a peek at his newborn little brother when Killian leaned down to put Joanne on the ground. She tumbled over to the bed as fast as possible, Henry helping her up on the bed until she was able to also see their little brother. Henry's serious voice reached his ears as he'd explained to Joanne to be careful because their little brother was still very fragile.

Emma met his gaze over the heads of their children, and his vision blurred as tears threatened to fall. He loved them all so much that his heart nearly jumped out of his chest with happiness. He mouthed an 'I love you' in her direction, and she blew him a kiss back.

"What's his name, Mum?"

Emma looked at their son for a moment before meeting his eyes again, her smile becoming even more radiant as she answered, "Nathaniel George Liam Jones."

He was embarrassingly close to bursting into tears right then and there when Emma said his brother's name. They'd agreed on the first two names a while back, but he didn't know that she decided to give their son the name of his deceased brother, too.

Stepping slowly closer, he never let his eyes wander from Emma's gaze until he was leaning against the bedpost and only averted his gaze to look down at their newborn son. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at him for the very first time. Gulping hard, he stretched out his hand, skimming his finger over the soft skin of his son's cheek. A new life was always something beautiful, but every time it hit him as hard, touching someone for the very first time.

Their bedchamber stayed a madhouse for a few minutes – Joanne babbling things only she could understand, Henry asking questions without waiting for answers and the maids running around to clean up the room. But he was welcoming it; he had a hard time getting a grip on his emotions and as if Emma sensed it her free hand reached for his, squeezing it softly.

He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and just lay with her for hours, and it took longer than he'd have liked until everything calmed down. The children left to get ready for bed and Emma and he had a few moments to themselves before Killian would check on the children and read them a bedtime story.

He lowered himself carefully on the bed, shifting until Emma was able to lay her head on his shoulder. Their newborn son was starting to fidget, his small mouth opening on a weak protest that made both his parents chuckle.

"He's probably hungry," Emma said quietly, reaching for her shift and pushing it opened so that Nathaniel could reach her breast. She never wanted a wet nurse, and secretly Killian was glad that Emma wanted to nurse their children by herself.

Nathaniel latched on to Emma's nipple with the strength of a newborn seeking nutrition, and Emma gasped slightly before she relaxed against Killian again. They stayed silent until their son was well sated, his head lolling against Emma's breasts the moment she'd made herself decent again. Their son fell immediately asleep, clearly exhausted by the exhaustion of eating.

"I love you," Killian whispered, pressing a kiss first on Emma's forehead and then on Nathaniel's cheek, settling his hand on Emma's holding their son. "I love you so much."

"I kept my promise," Emma breathed, turning carefully to not wake Nathaniel up. "I gave you an heir."

"I bloody hell don't care ..." he trailed off the moment she saw the amused twinkle in his wife's eyes. She clearly meant to tease him, and he exhaled a long breath before he added, "You're a tease, milady."

"Only because you make it so easy," she replied, her mouth curling up into a mischievous grin he had to stop by kissing her deeply.

"Thank you." He closed his eyes, burying his face in her hair. He was so close to crying again, his throat already closing up, making his next words barely audible, "Thank you for making me so happy."

"I'm the one who has to thank you." Her lips brushed against his neck, sending a shiver through his body. "I don't know what would have happened to Henry and I without you."

"You would have found another way, love. You're the strongest ..."

"I love you." Her words cut him off, her lips pressing a hard kiss on his skin. "I love you, Killian."

Closing his eyes again, he leaned his head against hers, feeling his son's chest rise and fall beneath his hand. A new life was always a miracle. But the greatest miracle had occurred when a strange woman had knocked at his door and asked him to marry her.

Letting her in had been the best decision of his life.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you, thank you, thank you all so much for your comments and kudos. I might not have reached the goal I've set myself at the beginning, but I got very close. This is the longest fanfiction I've ever written, and even though I made a few mistakes on the way it was an awesome experience. It became even more special because of all of you.**
> 
> **So … thank you. It wouldn't have been the same without you.**
> 
> **As you know every story has to come to an end eventually, and I hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I did. It does feel a little strange to say goodbye to this story, but I already have two new ideas in the works (so far only in my head) and I'm very exited to start writing them.**
> 
> **Hope to see you all again at my next story. For now I'm sending you all cookies and smoochies. You all rock. Never forget that.**


End file.
